MUDIESe^LIBRARY, 


MU  DIE'S  ^LIBRARY, 

—    LI  M1TED.— 
30  TO  34,  NEW  OXFORD  STREET,  W.C.I. 

i!32,KENSINGTOK  HIGH  STR£ET,W.8. 
BRANCH  OFFICES^  46QU££N    V1CTOR1A  ST,  E.C.4. 

SUBSCRIPTION  . 
SHILLINGS   PER  ANNUM  & 


14,000  MILES 
THROUGH  THE  AIR 


THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

NEW  YORK    •    BOSTON    •    CHICAGO    •    DALLAS 
ATLANTA    •    SAN  FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LIMITED 

LONDON    •    BOMBAY    •    CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE   MACMILLAN  CO.  OP  CANADA,  LTD. 

TORONTO 


14,000  MILES 
THROUGH  THE  AIR 


BY 

SIR   ROSS   SMITH,  F.R.G.S. 


Illustrated  with  Photographs 


MACMILLAN   AND   CO.,    LIMITED 

ST.    MARTIN'S   STREET,    LONDON 

1922 


COPYRIGHT 


Printed  by 

J.  J.  Little  and  Ives  Company 
New  York,  U.S.A. 


4* 


THE  FIRST  FLIGHT 

FROM 

ENGLAND  TO  AUSTRALIA 

BY 

CAPTAIN  SIR  ROSS  SMITH 

K.B.E.,    M.C.,    D.F.C.,    A.F.C.,    F.R.G.S. 


PREFACE 

MY  thanks  are  due  to  Captain  Frank  Hurley 
for  his  generous  and  energetic  help  in  the  writing 
of  this  book.  Had  it  not  been  for  his  persuasion 
and  hard  work,  I  doubt  if  it  even  would  have  been 
accomplished.  When  it  was  first  suggested  to  me 
that  I  should  write  an  account  of  the  Vimy's  flight 
from  England  to  Australia,  I  thought  it  a  splen- 
did idea  and  at  once  said  that  I  would.  That  was 
15  months  ago  and  I  have  only  just  completed  it! 
I  have  tried  to  tell  the  story  just  as  I  remember  it 
and  without  too  much  technical  detail  and  in  doing 
this  my  brother's  diary  has  been  of  the  greatest 
assistance. 

A  slightly  shorter  account  of  this  flight  first  ap- 
peared in  the  Washington  National  Geographic 
Magazine  and  in  Australian  Life  and  I  am  indebted 

V 

516874 


VJ  PREFACE 

f 

to  these  publications  for  their  courtesy  in  allowing 
me  to  reproduce  it. 

Ross  SMITH. 
London* 

September,  1921. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I     PREPARATIONS 

II  THROUGH  CLOUD  OCEAN  TO  LYONS   ....  17 

III     LYONS — ROME 28 

IV     ROME— CAIRO 39 

V     CAIRO  TO  BAGDAD •  52 

VI     OVER  MESOPOT  TO  KARACHI 64 

VII     KARACHI  TO  RANGOON 75 

VIII     IN  THE  CLOUDS  ABOVE  BURMA 87 

IX     SIAM  TO  SINGAPORE 96 

X     SINGAPORE  TO   SURABAYA 107 

XI     INTO  AUSTRALIA 119 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

The  pilot,  the  navigator Frontispiece 

FACING  PAGE 

Map:  the  route  followed 1 

The  men  who  kept  the  engines  going 2 

The  .£10,000   prize 4 

The  start  from  Hounslow,  Nov.    12,   1919    .       .       .       .  10 

The  first  and  last  pages  of  the  Vimy's  log  book  ...  12 

The  Vickers  Vimy 14 

The  start  from  the  Hounslow  aerodrome,  London   .       .  16 

Customs   declaration   before   leaving   England    ...  18 

The  aerial  post 22 

The  southern  Alps 30 

Emus  in  Western  Queensland 34 

A  lagoon  covered  with  water  lilies,  Northern  Australia  38 

Aboriginal  woman,  Northern  Territory,  Australia   .       .  42 

The  Pyramids   from  the  air 48 

Cairo  from  the  air 50 

The  Jaffa- Jerusalem  road 52 

The  Suez  Canal  at  Kantara 54 

Jerusalem    from   the    air 5G 

Tiberias   on  the  Sea   of  Galilee 58 

Damascus  from  the  air 60 

The  British  camp   at  Basra 68 

Bushire  on  the  Persian  Gulf >    .  70 

The  Persian  letter 72 

ix 


X  ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING  PAGE 

A  Persian  policeman,  a  Persian  priest 74 

Delhi  from  the  air 76 

The  aerodrome,  Allahabad 78 

The  Taj  Mahal  from  the  air 80 

The  hawk's   wing 82 

Sydney   from  the  air 88 

Keith  filling  the  Vimi/s  tanks  with  "Shell"   ....  92 

One  of  the  remotest  spots  in  Australia 98 

Bourke,  an  "out-back"  town  in  New  South  Wales      .      .  102 

The  Vimy  flying  over  Java 104 

Singapore 106 

The  Vimy  coming  down  to  land  at  Surabaya  .       .       .     .  .  108 

Digging  the  Vimy  out  of  the  mud,  Surabaya  .       .       .       .  110 

Digging  out  the  Vimy's  wheels,  Surabaya   .       .       .       .  112 

The  Vimy  bogged  in  the  mud  at  Surabaya   .      .      .      .  114 

Native  coolies 116 

Matting  road  and   V-imy,  Surabaya 118 

A  crowd  of  natives  at  Bima 120 

We  drank  success  to  the  last  stage  of  the  flight  .       .       .  122 

The  H.M.A.S.  Sydney  patrolling  the  seas    .      .      .      .  124 

People  inspecting  the   Vimy 126 

Sydney  Heads  from  the  Vimy 128 

Typical  "scrub  country" .      .      .  130 

Our  rescue  party  near  Anthony's  Lagoon    .       .       .       .  132 

Our  camp  while  mending  the  broken  propeller  .       .       .  134 

The  crowd  on  the  aerodrome  at  Adelaide 136 


TIME  TABLE  WITH  DISTANCES 


Date 

Hour 

Route 

Time  in  Air 
Hrs.    Mins. 

Distance  in 
Miles 

12/11/19 
13/11/19 
15/11/19 
16/11/19 
17/11/19 
18/11/19 
19/11/19 
20/11/19 
21/11/19 
23/11/19 
24/11/19 
25/11/19 
27/11/19 
28/11/19 
29/11/19 
30/11/19 
1/12/19 
2/12/19 
4/12/19 
6/12/19 
7/12/19 
8/12/19 
9/12/19 
10/12/19 

13/12/19 
14/12/19 
17/12/19 

18/12/19 

19/12/19 

20/12/19 
22/12/19 
23/12/19 

12/  2/20 
13/  2/20 

14/  2/20 
23/  2/20 
24/  2/20 
25/  2/20 
23/  3/20 

0905. 
1006. 
1000. 
0904. 
0815. 
0812. 
1024. 
1015. 
1315. 
0635. 
0700. 
0740. 
1020. 
0830. 
0830. 
0730. 
0655. 
0745. 
1015. 
0700. 
0735. 
1200. 
0945. 
0835. 

1023. 
0900. 
1800. 

1005. 

1105. 
0745. 
0650. 
0705. 
1100. 
0900. 
0700. 
1005. 
1000. 
0600. 
0700. 

London   to   Lyons  

6 
4 

3 
2 
5 
7 
4 
6 
3 
7 
8 
9 
4 
5 
4 
4 
6 
6 
6 
9 
4 
5 
5 

6 
4 
5 

1 

2 
3 
4 
3 
4 
3 
4 
4 
1 
3 
7 

20 
45 
20 
35 
40 
20 
10 

30 
40 
30 

25 

45 
15 

20 
20 
30 

30 
20 
30 

15 

45 

40 
40 

15 
15 

10 
5 
30 

500 
380 
180 
260 
520 
650 
450 
420 
350 
630 
730 
720 
380 
470 
420 
330 
400 
470 
480 
640 
350 
420 
440 

470 
220 
300 

20 

50 
180 
230 
300 
330 
260 
230 
200 
240 
80 
220 
430 

Lyons   to   Pisa 

Pisa  to  Rome 

Rome  to  Taranto 

Taranto  to  Suda  Bay   (Crete). 
Suda    Bay   to   Cairo  

Cairo  to  Damascus  

Damascus    to    Ramadie  

Basra  to  Bundar  Abbas  

Bundar  Abbas  to  Karachi  
Karachi    to    Delhi  

Delhi    to    Allahabad 

Allanabad    to    Calcutta  

Calcutta  to  Akyab    (Burma)  .  . 
Akyab  to  Rangoon  

Rangoon    to   Bangkok  

Bangkok    to    Singora  

Singora    to    Singapore  

Singapore  to  Kalidjati  (Java). 
Kalidjati    to    Surabaya 

Surabaya  to  Bima    (Sumbawa) 
Bima  to  Atamboea  (Timor)  .  .  . 
Atamboea      to      Port      Darwin 
(Australia) 

Port  Darwin  to  Warlock  Ponds 
Warlock  Ponds  to  Cobb's  Creek 
Cobb's  Creek  to  Anthony's  La- 
goon 

Anthony's   Lagoon   to   Brunette 
Downs     

Brunette  Downs  to  Avon  Downs 
Avon  Downs  to   Cloncurry.  .  .  . 
Cloncurry  to  Longreach 

Longreach   to   Charleville  

Charleville   to   Bourke 

Bc^urke   to  Narromine 

VaTromine  to  Sydney 

Sydney  to  Cootamundra  

Cootamundra  to  Henty 

Henty    to   Melbourne  

Melbourne  to  Adelaide 

Total   flying  time   and   dis- 
tance, London  to  Adelaide 

188 

20 

14,350 

In    addition   to   the    above,    several    hours    were    spent    in    the   air 
making  test  flights  at  various  places. 


14,000  MILES 
THROUGH  THE  AIR 


"Petrograd 


EURO  B 


BOYPT 

A    F    R    /I     C    A 


THE    ROUTE   FOLLOWED 
IN   THE   FIRST  FLIGHT 

FROM 

ENGLAND  TO  AUSTRALIA 

•_ Placets ;  w^ere  the  Aeroplane  landed 


-  '<<  <  LCKW  fy  PORT  DARWIN_II,060 MILES 
„       „    ADELAIDE 14,350    „ 

Stamfords  Geographical'  JfistaJ'^,  London, 


The  TO 


I 


'     n     d     i    a      n 


Tasmania  tjj 


allowed. 


1 4, 000  MILES  THROUGH  THE  AIR 


CHAPTER  I 
PREPARATIONS 

DURING  the  latter  phase  of  the  war,  while 
I  was  flying  with  Number  One  Squadron, 
Australian  Flying  Corps,  in  Palestine,  a 
Handley-Page  aeroplane  was  flown  out  from  Eng- 
land by  Brigadier-General  A.  E.  Borton,  C.M.G., 
D.S.O.,  A.F.C.,  to  take  part  in  General  Allenby's 
last  offensive.  It  was  intended  that  this  monster 
aeroplane  should  be  chiefly  employed  in  carrying 
out  active  night-bombing  operations  against  the 
enemy.  I  hailed  as  good  fortune  the  orders  that 
detailed  me  to  fly  it.  The  remarkable  success 
eventually  achieved  by  this  terrible  engine  of  de- 
struction, and  its  unfailing  reliability  during  the 
ensuing  long-distance  flights,  inspired  in  me  great 
confidence  and  opened  my  eyes  to  the  possibilities 
of  modern  aeroplanes  and  their  application  to  com- 
mercial uses. 

It  is  in  a  large  measure  due  to  the  extensive 

i 


2  14,000  MILES  THROUGH  THE  AIR 

experiences  gained  while  piloting  this  Handley- 
Page  machine  that  I  was  induced  to  embark  upon 
and  carry  to  a  successful  issue  the  first  aerial 
voyage  from  London  to  Australia.  In  a  lesser 
degree,  the  undertaking  was  suggested  in  a  joke. 
One  day  General  Borton  visited  our  squadron  and 
informed  me  that  he  was  planning  a  flight  in  order 
to  link  up  the  forces  in  Palestine  with  the  army  in 
Mesopotamia.  He  invited  me  to  join  him. 

There  was  a  further  proposal,  that  after  reaching 
Bagdad  we  should  shape  a  route  to  India,  "to  see," 
as  he  jocularly  remarked,  "the  Viceroy's  Cup  run 
in  Calcutta." 

"Then,  after  that,"  I  replied,  "let  us  fly  on  to 
Australia  and  see  the  Melbourne  Cup,"  little  think- 
ing at  the  time  that  I  should  ever  embark  upon 
such  a  project.  • 

Just  after  the  Armistice  was  signed,  General 
Borton  decided  to  start  out  in  the  Handley-Page 
for  India.  Major-General  Sir  W.  G.  H.  Salmond, 
K.C.M.G.,  C.B.,  D.S.O.,  commanding  the  Royal 
Air  Force  in  the  Middle  East,  would  accompany 
us  and  carry  out  a  tour  of  inspection. 

On  November  29,  1918,  we  took  our  departure 
from  Cairo,  accompanied  by  my  two  air  mechanics, 
Sergeant  J.  M.  Bennett,  A.F.M.,  M.S.M.,  and 
Sergeant  W.  H.  Shiers,  A.F.M.,  both  of  Number 
One  Squadron.  It  took  just  three  weeks  to  pioneer 
a  route  to  India,  where  we  arrived,  without  mishap, 


• 


The    men    who    kept    the    engines    going.    Left— Sergeant    W.    H. 
Shiers,  A.F.M.     Right— Sergeant  J.  M.  Bennett,  A.F.M.,  M.S.M. 


PREPARATIONS  3 

on  December  10,  1918,  scarcely  a  month  after  the 
signing  of  the  Armistice. 

Major-General  Salmond  was  very  proud  of  this 
achievement,  for  it  demonstrated  that  the  new  arm 
of  the  service,  the  Royal  Air  Force,  had  begun  to 
concentrate  its  efforts  on  peaceful  developments 
and  the  establishment  of  long-distance  commercial 
air  routes. 

This  was  the  longest  flight  that  had  ever  been 
made  up  to  this  time,  and  it  convinced  me  that  a 
machine,  properly  attended  and  equipped,  was 
capable  of  flying  anywhere,  provided  suitable  land- 
ing grounds  existed. 

After  our  arrival  in  India,  General  Borton  com- 
municated with  the  Air  Ministry  and  asked  for 
permission  to  charter  a  steamer  to  enable  him  to 
proceed  to  Australia  to  explore  the  route  and  ar- 
range suitable  landing  grounds. 

1  was  to  accompany  General  Borton  on  this  ex- 
pedition as  his  staff  captain,  and  it  was  our  inten- 
tion, after  surveying  out  the  route,  to  return  to 
India,  join  up  with  our  machine,  which  we  had  left 
at  Lahore,  and  continue  the  flight  to  Australia  over 
the  established  course. 

The  Air  Ministry  acceded  to  General  Borton's 
wishes,  and  the  Indian  Government  accordingly 
placed  at  our  disposal  the  R.I. M.S.  Sphinx.  On 
February  10,  1919,  we  sailed  from  Calcutta,  our 
hold  stowed  tight  with  stores  and  equipment  and 


4  14,000  MILES  THROUGH  THE  AIR 

7,000  gallons  of  petrol.  We  intended  to  dump  200 
gallons  of  petrol  at  each  landing  place  for  the 
anticipated  flight.  But  all  our  well-laid  schemes 
ended  in  smoke. 

Two  days  later,  just  after  leaving  Chittagong, 
in  East  Bengal,  our  first  port  of  call,  the  Sphinx 
caught  fire  and  blew  up.  We  narrowly  escaped 
going  up  with  it.  We  lost  everything  but  our  lives. 

After  this  mishap  we  were  compelled  to  return  to 
India  to  refit.  The  Indian  Government  generously 
lent  us  another  vessel,  the  R.I. M.S.  Minto.  This 
time  we  carried  no  petrol. 

The  expedition  was  rewarded  with  splendid  suc- 
cess during  the  period  of  three  months  we  were  en- 
gaged upon  it.  We  visited  Burma,  the  Federated 
Malay  States,  the  Netherlands  Indies,  Borneo,  and 
Siam. 

Upon  our  return  to  India  we  were  chagrined  to 
find  that  our  machine  had  been  taken  up  to  the 
Northwest  Frontier  to  participate  in  a  bombing 
offensive  against  the  Afghans,  and  had  been  crashed 
in  a  storm. 

However,  our  heart-pangs  were  mitigated  when 
we  learned  that  the  Australian  Commonwealth 
Government  had  offered  a  prize  of  £10,000  for  the 
first  machine  (manned  by  Australians)  to  fly  from 
London  to  Australia  in  30  days. 

Hearing  this,  I  knew  there  would  be  many  com- 
petitors, and  the  spirit  of  rivalry  grew  tense.  It 


PREPARATIONS  5 

stimulated  in  me  a  keenness — more  than  ever — to 
attempt  the  flight.  My  difficulty  was  how  to  reach 
England  in  time. 

Shortly  afterward  General  Borton  was  instructed 
to  return  to  London  to  report  on  the  route.  This 
opened  the  avenue  of  transport  for  myself  and  my 
two  mechanics.  General  Borton  himself  was  very 
keen  to  join  in  the  flight  to  Australia,  but,  un- 
fortunately, not  being  an  Australian  he  was  de- 
barred from  entering  the  competition.  He  very 
kindly  approached  Messrs.  Vickers,  Ltd.,  and  asked 
them  if  they  would  supply  a  machine  for  the  flight. 
This,  at  first,  they  refused  to  do,  but  after  General 
Borton  pointed  out  that  I  had  already  done  a  con- 
siderable amount  of  long-distance  flying  and  had 
been  over  nearly  the  whole  route,  as  well  as  assisted 
in  pioneering  it,  they  finally  consented. 

My  brother  Keith  was  at  the  time  in  England 
awaiting  repatriation  to  Australia.  During  the 
latter  part  of  the  war  he  had  been  flying  with  the 
Royal  Air  Force  and  had  gained  extensive  and 
varied  air  experience.  I  therefore  decided  that  he 
would  be  the  best  man  to  take  as  assistant  pilot  and 
navigator. 

Sergeants  Bennett  and  Shiers,  in  view  of  their 
excellent  war  services  and  the  knowledge  that  they 
gained  in  the  flight  from  Cairo  to  Calcutta,  were 
to  accompany  us  as  air  mechanics,  thus  making  a 
total  crew  of  four. 


6  14,000  MILES  THROUGH  THE  AIR 

Vickers  did  not  definitely  decide  to  enter  the  ma- 
chine for  the  competition  until  October,  and  as  we 
left  London  on  November  12th,  it  will  be  seen  that 
the  time  to  prepare  for  such  an  undertaking  was 
very  limited.  .  Our  preparations  were  doubly  hur- 
ried, first  by  the  knowledge  that  four  other  ma- 
chines had  entered  the  competition  and  were  actu- 
ally ready  to  start  before  the  Vickers  Company 
had  handed  over  their  machine  to  us,  and,  second, 
by  the  fact  that  winter  was  fast  approaching  and 
the  season  might  break  at  any  time,  thus  rendering 
long-distance  flying  extremely  unpleasant. 

Once  Vickers  had  decided  to  enter  the  machine, 
however,  they  threw  themselves  whole-heartedly 
into  the  project  and  practically  gave  me  a  free  hand 
to  make  whatever  arrangements  I  deemed  essential. 
I  had  gone  minutely  into  all  the  intricate  details  of 
equipment,  the  question  of  supplies,  fuel,  etc.,  dur- 
ing my  return  voyage  to  England. 

The  "Shell"  Marketing  Co.  agreed  to  have  our 
petrol  supplies  at  the  required  depots  to  tabulated 
dates,  and  Messrs.  Wakefield,  Ltd.,  in  a  similar 
capacity  undertook  to  arrange  for  lubricating  oils. 

The  route  I  decided  upon  was,  roughly,  England, 
France,  Italy,  Crete,  Egypt,  Palestine,  Mesopo- 
tamia, Persia,  India,  Burma,  Siam,  Federated 
Malay  States,  Dutch  East  Indies  to  Port  Darwin. 

With  the  route  from  Port  Darwin  to  our  ulti- 
mate destination  we  were  unconcerned,  for  we  had 


PREPARATIONS  7 

received  intimation  that  the  Defense  Department 
of  Australia  had  made  all  necessary  arrangements. 
The  great  thing  was  to  reach  Australia,  and,  if 
possible,  land  our  machine  there  under  thirty  days. 

For  my  convenience,  I  divided  the  route  into  four 
stages:  First,  London  to  Cairo;  second,  Cairo  to 
Calcutta;  third,  Calcutta  to  Singapore;  fourth, 
Singapore  to  Australia. 

I  had  been  over  the  entire  route  with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  first  stage,  and  so  was  fairly  cognizant 
of  the  existing  conditions — the  weather,  climate, 
and  the  nature  of  the  landing  grounds.  General 
Borton  had  pioneered  the  first  stage  in  August, 
1918;  his  generous  advice,  directions,  charts,  and 
photographs  were  invaluable. 

For  the  first  two  stages  bad  weather  was  my  only 
apprehension. 

As  far  as  Calcutta,  passable  aerodromes  existed, 
and  I  could  rest  assured  of  Royal  Air  Force  assist- 
ance at  almost  every  landing  place. 

From  Calcutta  onward  we  would  be  entirely  de- 
pendent on  our  own  arrangements.  I  considered 
these  last  two  stages  the  most  hazardous  of  the 
flight.  Owing  to  the  dense  jungles  and  rough 
ground,  landing  places  were  few  and  far  between, 
and  even  those  at  which  we  contemplated  stopping 
were  very  small  and  unsuited  to  landing  a  big 
machine. 

After  leaving  Calcutta,  I  proposed  landing  on 


8  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

the  race-course  at  Rangoon,  from  which  I  would 
fly  across  the  mountain  ranges  to  the  Siamese  aero- 
drome at  Bangkok.  I  then  proposed  to  skirt  south- 
ward down  the  coast  of  the  Malay  Peninsula  to 
Singapore,  where  once  more  a  landing  would  be 
made  on  a  race-course. 

The  next  stop  would  be  made  at  the  hangars  of 
the  Dutch  Flying  School,  near  Batavia.  There 
would  then  be  no  further  aerodromes  until  Port 
Darwin  was  reached,  a  distance  of  1,750  miles.  I 
knew  that  the  Vickers  Vlmy  was  quite  capable  of 
carrying  out  a  non-stop  flight  of  that  distance,  for 
this  had  been  demonstrated  by  the  late  Captain  Sir 
John  Alcock,  K.B.E.,  D.S.C.,  on  his  famous  trans- 
atlantic flight ;  but  I  was  also  aware  that  to  attempt 
such  a  long  flight  with  engines  that  by  that  time 
would  have  done  over  100  hours'  running  and 
covered  nearly  10,000  miles  would  be  much  to 
expect. 

I  therefore  decided  that,  in  order  to  make  more 
nearly  certain  my  chances  of  success,  an  aerodrome 
must  be  constructed  midway.  General  Borton  had 
selected  an  admirable  site  at  Bima,  on  the  island  of 
Sumbawa,  in  the  Dutch  East  Indies.  If  a  landing 
could  be  made  there,  the  long  stage  of  1,750  miles 
would  be  halved  and  the  possibility  of  success  more 
than  doubled. 

When  on  my  previous  visit  to  Java,  I  had  had 
the  honor  of  a  lengthy  interview  with  His  Excel- 


PREPARATIONS  9 

lency  the  Governor-General,  Count  Van  Limburg 
Stirum,  concerning  the  aerodromes  which  General 
Borton  and  I  were  selecting  in  the  Netherlands  In- 
dies for  the  proposed  aerial  route  to  Australia.  His 
Excellency  was  most  enthusiastic  over  the  develop- 
ment of  commercial  aviation,  and  I  found  him  par- 
ticularly well  informed  on  all  aerial  matters.  He 
also  stated  that  any  aerial  route  passing  over  the 
Netherlands  Indies  would  receive  his  whole-hearted 
support  and  the  assistance  of  his  government. 

In  the  course  of  the  conversation  I  mentioned 
that  I  hoped,  personally,  to  attempt  the  flight  from 
England  to  Australia  a  few  months  later.  He 
said  that  he  would  be  gratified  to  assist  in  any 
capacity.  Remembering  this  while  in  London,  I 
decided  to  ask  His  Excellency  if  he  would  prepare 
an  aerodrome  at  the  selected  site  at  Bima,  and  sent 
off  a  private  cable. 

Ten  valuable  days  elapsed  before  I  received  a 
reply,  but  when  it  came  I  was  overjoyed  to  learn 
that  he  was  not  only  having  Bima  prepared,  but 
also  another  aerodrome  at  Atamboea,  in  the  island 
of  Timor.  This  greatly  eased  my  mind,  for  it 
meant  that  instead  of  having  to  accommodate  our 
machine  with  a  petrol  capacity  for  1,750  miles,  we 
need  only  install  tanks  for  a  non-stop  flight  of  1,000 
miles.  This  greatly  added  to  the  buoyancy  of  the 
machine,  and,  through  the  saving  in  space,  to  our 
personal  comfort. 


10  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

The  machine  was  an  ordinary  Standard  Vickers 
Vimy  bomber,  similar  to  that  used  by  Sir  John  Al- 
cock  for  the  transatlantic  flight,  and,  apart  from 
the  installing  of  an  extra  petrol  tank,  we  made  prac- 
tically no  alterations. 

The  machine  was  powered  by  two  Rolls-Royce 
Eagle  VIII  engines,  each  of  360  horse-power. 
The  wing-spread  was  a  little  over  67  feet  and  the 
total  weight,  loaded,  was  six  and  a  half  tons. 

Vickers'  factory,  the  home  of  the  Vimy,  is  at 
Weybridge,  about  20  miles  distant  from  London, 
and  is  built  by  the  side  of  the  famous  Brooklands 
motor-racing  track.  After  completing  the  office 
work  in  London,  the  four  of  us  moved  to  Wey- 
bridge and  practically  lived  on  the  machine. 

The  fitting,  testing,  and  final  adjusting  were 
thoroughly  interesting,  and  great  enthusiasm  was 
shown  by  the  employees  of  Vickers.  It  was  grati- 
fying to  observe  that  these  same  men  and  women, 
who  had  produced  the  great  machine  flown  by  Sir 
John  Alcock,  felt  that  their  efforts  were  something 
more  than  mere  labor.  They  were  producing  an 
ideal  from  their  factory  to  uphold  national  prestige. 
Every  man  and  woman  did  his  or  her  best,  and 
wished  us  God-speed. 

Thus  we  were  able  to  place  the  deepest  confidence 
in  the  machine ;  we  feared  no  frailties  in  its  manu- 
facture, and  hundreds  of  times  during  the  flight  we 


PREPARATIONS  11 

had  occasion  to  pay  tribute  to  and  praise  the  ster- 
ling efforts  of  those  British  workers. 

Our  petrol  capacity  would  carry  us  for  13  hours 
at  a  cruising  speed  of  80  miles  an  hour — ample  for 
the  longest  stages  between  aerodromes. 

The  question  of  "spares"  was  of  vital  importance 
and  one  into  which  I  had  previously  gone  minutely. 
As  we  intended  starting  almost  immediately,  I  de- 
cided that  it  would  be  useless  to  ship  "spares" 
ahead,  so  that  the  only  course  left  was  to  carry  them 
with  us.  This  added  considerably  to  the  weight 
of  the  machine;  but  the  absence  of  a  certain  spare 
part,  should  we  require  it,  might  delay  us  for  weeks, 
and  so  put  us  out  of  the  competition. 

Eventually  the  spare  parts,  personal  kit,  and 
miscellaneous  gear  were  assembled  and  weighed.  I 
decided  to  limit  the  total  weight  of  our  machine 
when  fully  loaded  to  13,000  pounds. 

I  was  aware  that  the  deadweight  of  Sir  John 
Alcock's  machine  in  the  transatlantic  flight  was 
over  14,000  pounds,  but  in  the  vastly  greater  dis- 
tance that  lay  before  us,  I  intended  to  give  my 
engines  as  little  work  as  possible. 

We  discovered  that,  after  the  "weighing  in," 
there  was  an  excess  of  300  pounds;  so  something 
had  to  go.  Our  "spares"  were  indispensable,  and 
so  we  drastically  attacked  our  personal  kit.  It  was 
easy  enough  to  cut  down  our  kit — so  soon  as  we 


12  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

were  unanimous  in  deciding  to  go  without  any — 
and  so  it  eventuated  that  we  left  England  in  the 
garments  we  wore  and  with  the  proverbial  tooth- 
brush apiece. 

As  my  brother  was  navigator,  all  arrangements 
concerning  maps,  etc.,  were  left  entirely  to  him. 
Wherever  possible,  we  would  fly  our  course  by 
maps  and  direct  observations  of  features  on  the 
ground ;  but  when  cloudy  or  misty  weather  rendered 
terrestrial  observation  obscure,  we  would  rely 
solely  on  navigation.  For  this  purpose  we  carried 
an  Admiralty  compass,  a  ground-speed  and  drift 
indicator,  and  we  had  our  own  flying  experience  to 
fall  back  on. 

We  discussed  the  question  of  carrying  a  wireless 
set  at  some  length  and  finally  decided  not  to  take 
one.  It  would  weigh  100  pounds  and  take  up  a 
good  deal  of  room  and  would  be  of  little  use  to  us 
except  for  sending  cheery  messages  to  various 
places  we  passed  over. 

These  days  of  preparation  at  Weybridge  passed 
very  rapidly.  Bennett  and  Shiers  worked  on  the 
Vimy  helping  to  put  the  finishing  touches  to  her, 
while  Keith  and  I  busied  ourselves  with  the  hun- 
dred and  one  details  that  such  an  expedition 
entails. 

Previously  I  had  been  from  England  to  Aus- 
tralia several  times  by  mail  steamer  and  on  each 
occasion  I  had  embarked  either  at  Tilbury  or  Mar- 


PREPARATIONS  13 

seilles  and  in  due  course  reached  Adelaide  and 
thought  very  little  about  the  journey.  But  here 
was  something  vastly  different. 

This  time  we  had  an  aeroplane  at  Brooklands 
aerodrome  and  somewhere  away  on  the  other  side 
of  the  world  was  Australia.  We  were  going  to 
climb  up  into  the  air  and  fly  through  thousands  of 
miles  of  space  to  our  own  home!  It  was  to  be 
a  great  adventure — this  skimming  through  "un- 
flown  skies,"  over  strange  lands,  and  vast  spaces 
of  ocean.  Furthermore,  we  were  attempting  some- 
thing which  had  never  before  been  done,  and  so  it 
is  no  wonder  that  we  were  elated  at  the  prospect 
and  went  about  our  work  with  eagerness  and  light 
hearts. 

I  knew  that  the  physical  and  nervous  strain  of 
long  flying  hours  day  after  day  would  be  great,  so 
we  all  went  into  training  and  generally  took  care 
of  ourselves.  At  night  we  would  work  on  the  maps, 
plotting  out  the  course  and  studying  the  prominent 
landmarks,  and  so  long  before  we  left  England  we 
had  practically  visualized  most  of  the  country  that 
we  were  to  fly  over. 

For  food  we  carried  an  emergency  ration  consist- 
ing of  tinned  meat  and  biscuits,  together  with  some 
chocolate  and  Bovril.  This  was  in  case  we  should 
be  forced  to  land  in  some  obscure  place  and, 
roughly,  we  had  enough  food  to  last  us  seven  days. 
However,  ordinarily  we  contemplated  getting  suf- 


14  14,000    MILES   THROUGH   THE   AIR 

ficient  food  to  last  us  for  the  next  day  at  each  place 
at  which  we  landed. 

A  fishing  line  and  a  few  hooks  were  also  carried 
in  case  we  should  land  on  some  small  uninhabited 
island  and  have  to  do  the  "Robinson  Crusoe"  act 
for  a  time. 

As  we  were  to  fly  over  several  foreign  countries, 
the  International  Air  Convention  required  that  we 
should  have  a  distinctive  number  or  mark  painted 
on  the  machine  in  the  same  manner  as  a  motor  car 
has  to  carry  a  number  plate.  The  Air  Ministry 
allotted  us  the  letters  "G — E  A  O  U,"  which  were 
painted  on  the  wings  and  fuselage,  the  "G"  stand- 
ing for  Great  Britain  and  "E  A  O  U"  representing 
our  number.  However,  in  view  of  the  long  flight 
which  we  contemplated,  our  own  interpretation  of 
this  marking  was  "God  'Elp  All  Of  Us"! 

The  machine  was  at  last  ready,  and,  after  being 
flown  and  tested  by  Sir  John  Alcock,  was  pro- 
nounced fit  for  the  undertaking.  I  considered  it 
advisable  to  remain  another  week  in  England  in 
order  to  give  our  supplies  of  fuel  and  oil  sufficient 
time  to  reach  some  of  the  more  remote  aerodromes. 

It  was  galling  to  have  to  idle  in  England  while 
every  day  we  read  in  the  press  of  the  progress  of 
Monsieur  Poulet,  who  had  left  Paris  on  October 
14th  and  had  by  now  reached  Mesopotamia.  The 
Sopwith  machine,  piloted  by  Captain  Matthews, 
had  also  left  England  some  time  previously. 


PREPARATIONS  15 

The  weather  during  this  week's  stay  was  abom- 
inable. Winter  was  fast  closing  in  with  typical 
English  November  fogs.  Driving  sleet  and  pelting 
rains  fell  almost  without  intermission.  One  after- 
noon there  was  a  brief  lull,  and  I  managed  to  get 
the  machine  into  the  air  for  about  an  hour  and  make 
a  final  test. 

Our  machine  was  still  at  Weybridge,  and  the 
official  starting  place  for  the  competitive  flight  was 
the  Hounslow  aerodrome. 

I  had  intended  flying  over  to  Hounslow  on  No- 
vember 13th  and  starting  off  on  the  flight  the  fol- 
lowing morning.  On  November  llth  we  were  pot- 
tering around  our  machine  when  the  rain  suddenly 
ceased  and  the  fog  lifted.  It  was  too  good  an  op- 
portunity to  miss !  We  ran  the  machine  out  of  its 
hangar,  and  I  was  just  about  to  start  up  when  the 
clouds  closed  down  again  and  snow  fell  heavily. 

The  weather  was  very  capricious,  for  in  half  an 
hour  the  clouds  rolled  away,  clearing  the  air  and 
giving  promise  of  a  bright,  fine  evening.  The 
engines  were  started  up,  we  climbed  into  our  seats, 
and  took  off  from  Weybridge.  As  far  as  we  were 
concerned,  the  flight  to  Australia  had  begun! 

During  the  voyage  to  Hounslow  the  machine  in 
every  part  worked  to  my  entire  satisfaction  and  we 
landed  at  the  official  starting  ground  without  diffi- 
culty. 

Hounslow  was  then  the  main  "civilian"  aero- 


16  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

drome  of  London  and  all  commercial  machines  in- 
ward and  outward  bound  from  or  to  the  Continent 
started  from  or  landed  there.  So  soon  as  the  ma- 
chine was  in  its  hangar,  I  got  in  touch  with  Vickers 
and  informed  them  that  I  intended  starting  next 
morning. 

On  the  morning  of  November  12th  we  were 
called  at  4.30  and  I  was  delighted  to  find  a  clear, 
frosty  morning.  However,  at  6.30  a  dense  ground 
haze  appeared,  and  weather  reports  sent  by  the  Air 
Ministry  forecasted  bad  weather  in  the  southeast 
of  England  and  the  north  of  France. 

The  machine  was  run  out  from  the  hangars  and 
Commander  Perrin,  of  the  Royal  Aero  Club, 
marked  and  sealed  five  parts  of  it,  in  accordance 
with  the  rules  of  the  competition.  It  was  necessary 
to  produce  three  of  the  marked  parts  upon  arrival 
in  Australia,  in  order  to  identify  the  machine. 

At  8  o'clock  another  report  stated  that  the  fore- 
cast was  Class  V,  or  totally  unfit  for  flying.  This 
was  not  very  reassuring,  but  our  minds  were  made 
up  and,  come  fair,  come  foul,  we  were  determined  to 
start. 

A  few  friends  had  gathered  to  bid  us  God-speed, 
and,  with  their  kindly  expressions  and  cheers  sound- 
ing in  our  ears,  we  climbed  into  our  seats  and  took 
off  from  the  snow-covered  aerodrome. 


CHAPTER  II 
THROUGH  CLOUD  OCEAN  TO  LYONS 

WE  climbed  slowly  upward  through  the 
cheerless,  mist-laden  skies,  our  engines 
well  throttled  back  and  running  per- 
fectly. So  as  to  make  sure  that  all  was  in  thor- 
ough working  order,  we  circled  for  ten  minutes 
above  Hounslow,  then  set  off. 

At  2,000  feet  we  suddenly  emerged  from  the  fog 
belt  into  brilliant  sunshine,  but  the  world  below 
was  lost  to  sight,  screened  by  the  dense  pall  of  mist. 
Accordingly,  we  set  a  compass  course  for  Folke- 
stone, and  just  before  reaching  the  outskirts  a  rift 
in  the  mists  enabled  us  to  pick  up  the  grand  old 
coast-line,  every  inch  of  which  is  measured  by  his- 
tory; and  so  we  checked  our  bearings. 

There  was  a  certain  amount  of  sentiment, 
mingled  with  regrets,  in  leaving  old  England,  the 
land  of  our  fathers.  Stormy  seas  were  sweeping 
up  channel,  lashing  white  foam  against  the  gaunt, 
gray  cliffs  that  peered  through  the  mists  in  the 
winter  light,  phantom-like  and  unreal. 

The  frigid  breath  of  winter  stung  our  faces  and 

17 


18  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

chilled  us  through;  its  garb  of  white  had  fallen 
across  the  land,  making  the  prospect  inexpressibly 
drear.  The  roadways,  etched  in  dark  relief,  stood 
out  like  pencil-lines  on  the  snow-clad  landscape, 
all  converging  on  Folkestone. 

I  looked  over  the  side  as  the  town  itself,  which 
had  played  such  an  important  part  in  the  war,  came 
under  us.  Thither  the  legions  of  the  Empire,  in 
ceaseless  tides,  had  passed  to  and  from  the  grim 
red  fields  of  East  and  West,  all  acclaiming  thy 
might,  great  land  of  our  fathers ! 

It  seemed  hard  to  realize  that  we  had  at  last 
started  out  on  the  long  flight  for  which  we  had  been 
planning  and  working  so  long,  and  as  I  glanced 
over  the  machine  and  the  instruments,  I  wondered 
what  the  issue  of  it  all  might  be — if  the  fates 
would  be  so  kind  as  ,to  smile  on  us  ever  so  little  and 
allow  us  to  reach  the  goal  of  our  ambitions,  Aus- 
tralia, in  thirty  days. 

The  machine  was  flying  stately  and  steady  as 
a  rock.  All  the  bracing  wires  were  tuned  to  a 
nicety;  the  dope  on  the  huge  planes  glinted  and 
glistened  in  the  sunlight;  I  was  filled  with  admira- 
tion. The  engines,  which  were  throttled  down  to 
about  three-quarters  of  their  possible  speed,  had 
settled  down  to  their  task  and  were  purring  away 
in  perfect  unison  and  harmony. 

A  small  machine  is  ideal  for  short  flights,  joy- 
riding  the  heavens,  or  sight-seeing  among  the 


Ho,  152  (Sah 


AIRCRAFT. 

Manifest 
or  general  declaration  of  the  cargo. 


/  \tm    ^> 


I,IY.VI.!,;< 


Customs  declaration  before  leaving  England. 


THROUGH    CLOUD    OCEAN   TO   LYONS  19 

clouds;  but  there  is  something  more  majestic  and 
stable  about  the  big  bombers  which  a  pilot  begins 
to  love.  An  exquisite  community  grows  up  between 
machine  and  pilot;  each,  as  it  were,  merges  into 
the  other.  The  machine  is  rudimentary  and  the 
pilot  the  intellectual  force.  The  levers  and  controls 
are  the  nervous  system  of  the  machine,  through 
which  the  will  of  the  pilot  may  be  expressed — and 
expressed  to  an  infinitely  fine  degree.  A  flying- 
machine  is  something  entirely  apart  from  and  above 
all  other  contrivances  of  man's  ingenuity. 

The  aeroplane  is  the  nearest  thing  to  animate  life 
that  man  has  created.  In  the  air  a  machine  ceases 
indeed  to  be  a  mere  piece  of  mechanism;  it  be- 
comes animate  and  is  capable  not  only  of  primary 
guidance  and  control,  but  actually  of  expressing  a 
pilot's  temperament. 

The  lungs  of  the  machine,  its  engines,  are  again 
the  crux  of  man's  wisdom.  Their  marvelous  re- 
liability and  great  intricacy  are  almost  as  awesome 
as  the  human  anatomy.  When  both  engines  are 
going  well  and  synchronized  to  the  same  speed,  the 
roar  of  the  exhausts  develops  into  one  long-sus- 
tained rhythmical  boom — boom — boom.  It  is  a 
song  of  pleasant  harmony  to  the  pilot,  a  duet  of  con- 
tentment that  sings  of  perfect  firing  in  both  engines 
and  says  that  all  is  well. 

This  melody  of  power  boomed  pleasantly  in  my 
ears,  and  my  mind  sought  to  probe  the  inscrutable 


20  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

future,  as  we  swept  over  the  coast  of  England  at 
90  miles  per  hour. 

And  then  the  sun  came  out  brightly  and  the 
Channel,  all  flecked  with  white  tops,  spread  be- 
neath us.  Two  torpedo-boats,  looking  like  toys, 
went  northward.  And  now,  midway,  how  narrow 
and  constricted  the  Straits  appeared,  with  the  gray- 
white  cliffs  of  old  England  growing  misty  behind, 
and  ahead — Gris  Nez — France,  growing  detail 
each  moment ! 

The  weather  was  glorious,  and  I  was  beginning 
to  think  that  the  official  prophet,  who  had  predicted 
bad  conditions  at  our  start,  was  fallible  after  all. 
It  was  not  until  we  reached  the  coast  of  France 
that  the  oracle  justified  itself;  for,  stretching  away 
as  far  as  we  could  see,  there  lay  a  sea  of  cloud. 
Thinking  it  might  be  only  a  local  belt,  we  plunged 
into  the  compacted  margin,  only  to  discover  a  dense 
wall  of  nimbus  cloud,  heavily  surcharged  with  snow. 

The  machine  speedily  became  deluged  by  sleet 
and  snow.  It  clotted  up  our  goggles  and  the  wind 
screen  and  covered  our  faces  with  a  mushy,  semi- 
frozen  mask. 

Advance  was  impossible,  and  so  we  turned  the 
machine  about  and  came  out  into  the  bright  sun- 
shine again. 

We  were  then  flying  at  4,000  feet,  and  the 
clouds  were  so  densely  compacted  as  to  appear  like 
mighty  snow  cliffs,  towering  miles  into  the  air. 


THROUGH    CLOUD    OCEAN    TO   LYONS  21 

There  was  no  gap  or  pass  anywhere,  so  I  shut  off 
the  engines  and  glided  down,  hoping  to  fly  under 
them.  Below  the  clouds  snow  was  falling  heavily, 
blotting  out  all  observation  beyond  a  few  yards. 

Once  more  we  became  frozen  up,  and,  as  our  low 
elevation  made  flying  extremely  hazardous  and 
availed  us  nothing,  I  determined  to  climb  above  the 
cloud-mass  and,  once  above  it,  set  a  compass  course 
for  Lyons. 

Aerial  navigation  is  similar  to  navigation  at  sea, 
excepting  that  the  indispensable  sextant  is  more 
difficult  to  use  in  the  air,  owing  to  the  high  speed 
of  travel  and  the  consequent  rapid  change  from 
place  to  place  and  for  other  technical  reasons.  Al- 
lowances have  also  to  be  made  for  the  drift  of 
the  machine  when  side  winds  are  blowing — an  ex- 
tremely difficult  factor  to  determine  accurately. 

As  the  medium  on  which  the  machine  travels  is 
air,  any  active  motion  of  that  medium  must  neces- 
sarily have  a  direct  influence  on  the  machine.  If, 
for  instance,  the  medium  on  which  we  are  traveling 
is  a  wind  of  40  miles  per  hour,  blowing  directly  to- 
ward our  destination,  and  the  velocity  of  the  ma- 
chine is  80  miles  per  hour,  then  the  speed  which  the 
machine  will  travel  in  relation  to  the  ground  would 
be  120  miles  per  hour.  If  we  had  to  forge  directly 
ahead  into  the  same  wind,  then  our  speed  would 
obviously  be  only  40  miles  per  hour. 

To  determine  the  speed  of  a  machine  in  relation 


22  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

to  the  ground,  an  instrument  is  fitted,  called  a 
ground-speed  indicator.  In  side  winds  the  machine 
makes  leeway  in  addition  to  its  forward  movement, 
and  it  is  the  ratio  of  the  one  to  the  other  that  pro- 
vides the  greatest  problem  of  aerial  navigation, 
especially  when  flying  above  clouds  or  when  land 
features  are  obscured. 

On  this  particular  occasion  the  Air  Ministry  had 
furnished  us  with  charts  indicating  the  trend  of  the 
winds  and  their  approximate  force  at  various  alti- 
tudes, and  so  we  knew,  roughly,  what  allowances  to 
make  in  our  dead  reckoning  if  we  lost  sight  of  the 
ground. 

So  we  climbed  steadily  in  a  wide,  ascending 
spiral,  until  we  reached  an  altitude  of  9,000  feet, 
and  were  then  just  above  the  clouds.  Below  us 
the  snowstorm  raged,  but  we  had  entered  another 
world — a  strange  world,  all  our  own,  with  bright, 
dazzling  sunshine. 

It  might  have  been  a  vision  of  the  polar  regions ; 
it  undoubtedly  felt  like  it.  The  mighty  cloud  ocean 
over  which  we  were  scudding  resembled  a  polar 
landscape  covered  with  snow.  The  rounded  cloud 
contours  might  have  been  the  domes  of  snow- 
merged  summits.  It  was  hard  to  conceive  that  that 
amorphous  expanse  was  not  actual,  solid.  Here 
and  there  flocculent  towers  and  ramps  heaved  up, 
piled  like  mighty  snow  dumps,  toppling  and  crush- 
ing into  one  another.  Everything  was  so  tremen- 


First  aerial  post. 


THROUGH    CLOUD    OCEAN   TO   LYONS  23 

dous,  so  vast,  that  one's  sense  of  proportion  swayed 
uncontrolled. 

Then  there  were  tiny  wisps,  more  delicate  and 
frail  than  feathers.  Chasms  thousands  of  feet  deep, 
sheer  columns,  and  banks  extended  almost  beyond 
eye-reach.  Between  us  and  the  sun  stretched 
isolated  towers  of  cumulus,  thrown  up  as  if  erupted 
from  the  chaos  below.  The  sunlight,  filtering 
through  their  shapeless  bulk,  was  scattered  into 
every  conceivable  gradation  and  shade  in  monotone. 
Round  the  margins  the  sun's  rays  played,  outlining 
all  with  edgings  of  silver. 

The  scene  was  one  of  utter  bewilderment  and 
extravagance.  Below,  the  shadow  of  our  machine 
pursued  us,  skipping  from  crest  to  crest,  jumping 
gulfs  and  ridges  like  a  bewitched  phantom. 
Around  the  shadow  circled  a  gorgeous  halo,  a  com- 
plete flat  rainbow.  I  have  never  seen  anything  in 
all  my  life  so  unreal  as  the  solitudes  of  this  upper 
world  through  which  my  companions  and  I  were 
now  fleeting. 

My  brother  worked  out  our  course,  and  I  headed 
the  machine  on  to  the  compass  bearing  for  Lyons; 
and  so  away  we  went,  riding  the  silver-edged  sea 
and  chased  by  our  dancing  shadow.  For  three 
hours  we  had  no  glimpse  of  the  earth,  so  we  navi- 
gated solely  by  our  compass,  hoping  eventually  to 
run  into  clear  weather,  or  at  least  a  break  in  the 
cloud,  so  that  we  might  check  our  position  from  the 


24  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

world  below.  My  brother  marked  our  assumed 
position  off  on  the  chart,  by  dead  reckoning,  every 
fifteen  minutes. 

The  cold  grew  more  intense.  Our  hands  and 
feet  lost  all  feeling  and  our  bodies  became  well- 
nigh  frozen.  The  icy  wind  penetrated  our  thick 
clothing  and  it  was  with  greatest  difficulty  that  I 
could  work  the  machine.  Our  breaths  condensed 
on  our  faces  and  face-masks  and  iced  up  our 
goggles  and  our  helmets. 

Occasionally  immense  cloud  barriers  rose  high 
above  the  lower  cloud  strata,  and  there  was  no  cir- 
cumventing them;  these  barriers  were  invariably 
charged  with  snow,  and  as  I  plunged  the  machine 
into  them,  the  wings  and  fuselage  were  quickly 
armored  with  ice.  Our  air-speed  indicator  became 
choked,  and  we  ourselves  were  soon  covered  white 
by  an  accumulating  layer  of  driving  snow. 

Goggles  were  useless,  owing  to  the  ice,  and  we 
suffered  much  agony  through  being  compelled  to 
keep  a  lookout  with  unprotected  eyes — straining 
into  the  90-miles-an-hour  snow-blast. 

About  1  P.M.  I  suggested  to  my  brother  that 
we  should  have  some  sandwiches  for  lunch.  On 
taking  them  from  the  cupboard  we  discovered  they 
were  frozen  hard.  Fortunately,  we  carried  a 
thermos  flask  of  hot  coffee  and  the  piece  de  resist- 
ance was  a  few  sticks  of  chocolate,  which  was  part  of 
our  emergency  rations.  I  have  never  felt  so  cold 


THROUGH    CLOUD    OCEAN   TO   LYONS  25 

or  miserable  in  my  life  as  I  did  during  those  few 
hours.    My  diary  is  terse,  if  not  explicit: 

"This  sort  of  flying  is  a  rotten  game.  The  cold  is  hell,  and 
I  am  a  silly  ass  for  having  ever  embarked  on  the  flight." 

To  add  to  our  discomfort  and  anxiety,  we  were 
quite  uncertain  as  to  our  location,  and  I  had  visions 
of  what  would  happen  if  we  encountered  a  heavy 
side  wind  and  got  blown  into  the  wild  Atlantic. 

The  only  really  cheerful  objects  of  the  whole 
outfit  were  our  two  engines.  They  roared  away 
and  sang  a  deep -throated  song,  filled  with  content- 
ment and  gladness ;  it  did  not  worry  them  that  their 
radiator  blinds,  which  we  kept  shut,  were  thickly 
coated  with  frozen  snow. 

I  regarded  those  engines  with  envy.  They  had 
nice  hot  water  circulating  around  them,  and  well, 
indeed,  they  might  be  happy.  It  seemed  anomalous, 
too,  that  those  engines  needed  water  flowing  around 
their  cylinders  to  keep  them  cool,  while  we  were 
sitting  just  a  few  feet  away  semi-frozen.  I  was 
envious!  I  have  often  thought  of  that  day  since 
and  smiled  about  it — at  that  diary  entry,  and  at  my 
allusion  to  the  two  engines  and  my  envy  of  their 
warmth. 

The  situation  was  becoming  desperate.  My  limbs 
were  so  dead  with  cold  that  the  machine  was  almost 
getting  beyond  my  control.  We  must  check  our 
position  and  find  out  where  we  were  at  any  cost. 


26  14,000    MILES    THROUGH    THE   AIR 

Ahead  loomed  up  a  beautiful  dome-shaped  cloud, 
lined  with  silver  edges.  It  was  symbolical;  and 
when  all  seemed  dark,  this  rekindled  in  me  the 
spark  of  hope.  By  the  side  of  the  "cloud  with  the 
silver  lining"  there  extended  a  gulf  about  two 
miles  across.  As  we  burst  out  over  it  I  looked  down 
into  its  abysmal  depths. 

At  the  bottom  lay  the  world.  As  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach,  in  every  direction  stretched  the  illimit- 
able cloud  sea,  and  the  only  break  now  lay  beneath 
us.  It  resembled  a  tremendous  crater,  with  sides 
clean-cut  as  a  shaft.  Down  this  wonderful  cloud 
avenue  I  headed  the  Vimy,  slowly  descending  in  a 
wide  spiral.  The  escape  through  this  marvelous 
gateway,  seven  thousand  feet  deep,  that  seemed  to 
link  the  realms  of  the  infinite  with  the  lower  world 
of  mortals,  was  the  'most  soul-stirring  episode  of 
the  whole  voyage. 

Snow  was  falling  heavily  from  the  clouds  that 
encircled  us,  yet  down,  down  we  went  in  an  almost 
snow-free  atmosphere.  The  omen  was  good;  fair 
Fortune  rode  with  us.  The  landscape  was  covered 
deep  in  snow,  but  we  picked  out  a  fairly  large  town, 
which  my  brother  at  once  said  was  Roanne.  This 
indicated  that  we  were  directly  on  our  route ;  but  it 
seemed  too  good  to  be  true,  for  we  had  been  flying 
at  over  80  miles  per  hour  for  three  hours  by 
"blind  navigation,"  and  had  been  unable  to  check 
our  course. 


THROUGH    CLOUD    OCEAN    TO   LYONS  27 

At  1,000  feet  I  circled  above  the  town.  Our  maps 
informed  us  that  it  was  Roanne !  Lyons,  our  desti- 
nation, was  only  40  miles  away.  Exquisitely  indeed 
is  the  human  mind  constituted;  for,  now  that  we 
knew  where  we  were,  we  all  experienced  that  strange 
mental  stimulus — the  reaction,  after  mental  anxiety 
and  physical  tribulation.  We  forgot  the  cold,  the 
snow,  the  gloom ;  everything  grew  bright  and  warm 
with  the  flame  of  hope  and  success.  And  so  even- 
tually we  reached  Lyons  and  landed. 


CHAPTER  III 
LYONS— ROME 

I  HAVE  always  regarded  the  journey  from 
Hounslow  to  Lyons  as  the  worst  stage  of  the 
flight,  on  account  of  the  winter  weather  condi- 
tions. We  had  flown  510  miles  on  a  day  officially 
reported  "unfit  for  all  flying."  Furthermore,  we 
had  convinced  ourselves  that,  by  careful  navigation, 
we  could  fly  anywhere  in  any  sort  of  weather,  and, 
what  was  still  more,  we  had  gained  absolute  con- 
fidence in  our  machine  and  engines. 

We  were  so  stiff  with  cold  when  we  climbed  out 
of  the  machine  that  we  could  hardly  walk.  But 
what  did  it  matter?  Our  spirits  ran  high;  we  had 
covered  the  worst  stage;  the  past  would  soon  be 
forgotten,  and  new  adventures  lay  awaiting  us  in 
the  near,  the  rosy,  future. 

The  French  flying  officers  were  very  surprised 
when  they  learned  we  had  come  from  London. 
They  looked  up  at  the  weather,  at  the  machine, 
then  at  us,  and  slowly  shook  their  heads.  It  was 
an  eloquent,  silent  expression.  They  were  still 
more  surprised  when  they  learned  that  we  intended 
leaving  for  Rome  the  next  morning. 

28 


LYONS ROME  29 

Not  one  of  us  could  speak  French  very  well, 
and  we  had  considerable  difficulty  in  arranging  for 
petrol  supplies  to  be  delivered  to  the  machine  by 
next  morning.  Sergeants  Bennett  and  Shier s  just 
had  time  to  look  over  the  engines  before  the  winter 
darkness  settled  down.  We  all  turned  into  bed 
very  early,  very  tired,  but  very  happy. 

On  opening  my  personal  kit  that  night  I  found 
it,  too,  had  suffered  the  rigors  of  the  sky  journey. 
It  was  still  frozen  stiff — my  solitary  toothbrush! 

Next  morning  was  November  13th.  I  always 
hold  that  such  a  date  should  be  banned  from  the 
months  of  the  calendar.  Daylight  6.30,  cold  and 
frosty.  The  petrol  had  not  arrived  at  the  machine, 
so  I  sent  my  brother  Keith  in  search  of  it;  his 
French  was  even  less  eloquent  than  mine.  A  couple 
of  hours  later  he  returned  looking  very  grim,  fol- 
lowed by  300  gallons  of  very  servile  spirit. 

I  explained  in  execrable  French  to  a  mechanic 
that  I  required  24  gallons  of  hot  water  for  our 
radiators.  It  had  been  necessary  to  drain  the  water 
from  the  radiators  the  night  before,  owing  to  the 
low  temperature;  otherwise  the  circulating  water 
would  have  been  frozen  into  a  solid  block  and  burst 
the  radiators.  Ten  minutes  later  the  mechanic  re- 
turned bearing  a  small  jug  of  hot  water.  Our  faces 
had  been  too  sore  to  shave  that  morning,  so  I  sup- 
pose he  gathered  from  our  appearance  that  we 
wanted  the  hot  water  for  that  purpose. 


30  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIE 

My  brother  Keith  then  had  a  try  in  that  Aus- 
tralian tongue,  famed  alike  for  its  potency  and 
rhetoric,  and  universally  understood  throughout 
the  breadth  of  the  battlefields.  That  mechanic 
bowed  most  politely  and  profusely  and  returned  in 
great  haste,  bearing  triumphantly  a  second  jug  of 
hot  water.  My  brother's  growth,  like  his  temper, 
is  much  more  bristly  than  mine.  While  we  both 
were  literally  "losing  our  hair,"  my  indispensable 
Bennett  and  Shiers  had  filled  several  petrol  tins 
with  water  and  had  borrowed  a  large  blow-lamp. 
Thus  was  the  water  heated  and  our  tempers  cooled. 

We  had  planned  overnight  to  leave  Lyons  im- 
mediately after  an  early  breakfast,  and  we  hoped 
to  land  at  Rome  well  before  the  day  closed.  The 
delay  in  securing  warm  water  for  our  radiators, 
however,  meant  that  we  were  not  in  the  air  till  10 
o'clock. 

It  was  a  frosty  daybreak,  and  for  a  short  time  we 
encountered  some  clouds;  but  as  we  progressed 
these  drifted  away,  clearing  the  atmosphere  and 
unfolding  a  scene  of  bewildering  beauty.  East- 
ward the  Alps  reared  up,  serrating  the  horizon 
with  a  maze  of  glistening  snow-peaks.  Seas  of 
cloud  filled  the  valleys,  with  innumerable  dark, 
rocky  pinnacles  piercing  through  and  giving  the 
whole  scene  the  appearance  of  a  rock -torn  surf. 
Charming  villas,  set  amidst  lawns  and  gardens,  lay 
tucked  away  over  the  hillsides.  TVhite  roadways 


LYONS — ROME  31 

streaked  the  landscape,  and  close  by  the  coast  ran 
the  thin  lines  of  steel  along  which  a  toylike  train 
was  passing  with  its  burden  of  sight-seers  to  Monte 
Carlo  and  the  playground  of  Europe. 

The  air  was  keen-edged  and  the  cold  was  still 
severe,  but  after  the  icy  blasts  and  the  spear-pointed 
showers  of  the  previous  day,  the  going  was  excel- 
lent. We  were  freed,  too,  from  the  anxiety  of 
shaping  our  course  by  sheer  navigation.  Nature's 
great  map  was  no  longer  obscured.  It  lay  unrolled 
below,  an  enlarged  edition  of  our  own  tiny  charts, 
on  which  we  checked  its  features.  Picking  up  the 
River  Durance  quite  easily,  we  crossed  it  and 
passed  above  the  city  of  Aix;  then  swung  east, 
heading  for  the  coast  and  Cannes — across  the 
famous  Riviera. 

Soon  we  caught  sight  of  the  sea.  Five  thousand 
feet  below  us  the  Mediterranean  was  laving  the 
cliffs  of  innumerable  little  bays  and  inlets,  embroid- 
ering a  thin  white  edging  of  surf  round  their  rugged 
bases — a  narrow,  white  boundary-line  separating 
green-topped  cliffs  from  deep-blue  waters. 

Nice  soon  lay  below  us.  The  city,  with  its  fine 
buildings  and  avenues  of  palms,  encircled  by  high 
hills,  rests  on  the  shores  of  a  sea  of  wondrous  blue. 
It  is  a  place  of  ineffable  charm  and  peace. 

A  large  crowd  had  collected  on  the  Promenade 
des  Anglais  to  witness  our  flight  and  cheer  us  up. 
We  flew  low  enough  to  distinguish  the  doll-like 


32  14,000    MILES    THROUGH    THE    AIR 

figures,  and  though  we  could  not  return  their  greet- 
ings we  appreciated  them  none  the  less.  Then  on- 
ward again  with  a  following  breeze,  white-cresting 
the  blue  sea  that  stretched  away  from  beneath  us  to 
the  southern  horizon.  We  circled  above  Monte 
Carlo  and  the  famous  Casino,  admiring  the  won- 
derful terraces  and  gardens,  which  looked  like  a 
skillfully  carved  and  colored  model  rather  than  a 
real  palace  and  its  gardens. 

We  swept  round,  looking  for  a  landing  place,  for 
I  was  inclined  to  test  Dame  Fortune  and  see  if  she 
would  be  as  kind  to  us  at  the  tables  as  she  had  been 
to  us  in  the  air.  There  seemed  to  be  no  suitable 
spot  on  which  to  land,  however,  so  we  headed  on  to 
our  course  again,  and  soon  our  regrets  faded  in 
admiration  of  the  glorious  coast-line  over  which  we 
were  speeding.  Suddenly  I  remembered  it  was 
the  13th;  Fortune  had  been  kind  to  us  after  all. 

My  brother  and  Bennett  and  Shiers  spent  most 
of  their  time  while  flying  along  this  picturesque 
coast  in  taking  photographs.  Kodak,  Ltd.,  had  of- 
fered a  prize  of  £800  for  the  crew  of  the  machine 
who  produced  the  best  50  negatives  taken  during 
the  Australian  flight.  We  entered  for  this  prize 
and  eventually  won  it  and  Kodak's  had  supplied  us 
with  their  cameras  and  dozens  of  films. 

Mentone,  nestling  in  its  bay,  was  the  last  glimpse 
we  had  of  France;  then,  still  following  the  railway 
line  that  runs  along  the  coast,  we  crossed  the  border 


LYONS ROME  33 

into  Italy  without  trouble  from  the  customs  of- 
ficials. Less  than  half  an  hour  later  we  passed 
San  Remo  and,  instead  of  following  the  coast -line 
north,  I  kept  the  Vimy  headed  almost  due  east,  and, 
crossing  the  Gulf  of  Genoa,  picked  up  the  coast 
again  at  Spezia  and  turned  south  once  more.  Here 
we  met  a  strong  head  wind,  and  this,  added  to  the 
handicap  of  our  delayed  start,  made  it  evident  that 
we  could  not  reach  Rome  before  dark. 

I  knew  that  there  was  an  aerodrome  at  Pisa,  since 
it  was  one  of  the  stations  on  the  air  route  to  Egypt, 
so  decided  to  spend  the  night  there  and  go  on  to 
Rome  early  next  day.  It  was  well  down  the  after- 
noon when  we  picked  out  the  aerodrome,  and  the 
ground  looked  very  wet  and  desolate  as  we  circled 
above  it.  But  we  landed  successfully  through 
a  whirl  of  mud  and  water,  whisked  up  by  the 
propellers. 

As  we  taxied  across  the  slippery  'drome  toward 
the  hangars,  several  Italian  flying  officers  came  put 
to  greet  us.  They  were  profusely  polite,  and  while 
our  scholarship  boasted  "little  French  and  less 
Italian,"  there  was  no  doubt  about  their  cordial 
welcome  and  their  curiosity.  By  means  of  that 
universal  language  of  gesture,  in  which  these  Latins 
are  so  accomplished,  they  made  us  at  home  and  in- 
dicated that  an  English  officer  was  stationed  in 
Pisa  and  that  we  might  reach  him  by  telephone. 

After  considerable  trouble  I  managed  to  have 


34  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

him  called  up  and  asked  him  to  come  down  to  the 
aerodrome.  I  was  delighted  to  find  that  the  officer 
was  Captain  Home,  of  the  Royal  Air  Force,  who 
had  been  appointed  to  the  air-route  station.  Ac- 
commodation for  our  party  was  promptly  arranged, 
and  after  attending  to  the  machine  we  motored  into 
Pisa  and  stayed  the  night  at  an  hotel. 

Heavy  rain  set  in,  and  when  we  were  awakened  in 
the  morning  it  was  still  pouring,  with  a  strong  slant 
from  the  south.  In  spite  of  the  unsuitable  condi- 
tions, we  decided  to  go  down  to  the  aerodrome  and, 
if  possible,  get  up  and  go  on  to  Rome  that  day. 

On  our  arrival  at  the  hangars  we  found,  to  our 
dismay,  that  the  aerodrome  looked  more  like  a  lake 
than  a  landing  ground.  However,  I  started  up 
the  engines  and  endeavored  to  taxi  into  the  wind, 
but  the  machine  became  badly  bogged,  the  wheels 
refusing  to  budge  an  inch. 

A  force  of  thirty  Italian  mechanics  came  to 
help  us,  but  it  took  us  an  hour  and  a  half  to  extri- 
cate the  machine.  Our  difficulties  in  getting  any- 
thing like  "teamwork"  were  increased  by  our  lack 
of  knowledge  of  Italian,  and  Sergeant  Bennett 
amused  us  greatly  by  breaking  into  Arabic,  with  all 
the  French  he  knew  sifted  in.  A  second  attempt 
also  resulted  in  failure,  and  by  the  time  the  ma- 
chine had  been  dug  out  I  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  it  was  hopeless  to  try  to  leave  that  day.  It 
was  still  raining,  so  we  covered  up  the  engines  and 


LYONS — ROME  35 

reluctantly  returned  to  the  town,  soaking  wet  and 
grimed  with  mud. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  the  rain  ceased,  so  my 
brother  and  I  went  sight-seeing.  We  visited  the 
usual  hackneyed  tourist  sites,  including  the  famous 
Leaning  Tower.  Sergeant  Shiers  had  never  seen 
this  Tower  before  and  his  first  remark  was: 
"Well,  I  reckon  the  architect  who  designed  the 
damned  thing  must  have  had  a  bit  too  much  Johnny 
Walker!" 

Elections  were  in  progress  and  the  whole  town 
swayed  with  excitement.  We  attracted  much  at- 
tention walking  about  in  uniform;  for,  besides 
Captain  Home,  we  were  the  only  British  officers  in 
Pisa. 

We  were  cheerful,  for  we  had  hopes  that  the 
water  would  drain  off  the  aerodrome  by  the  follow- 
ing morning,  but  once  more  we  awoke  to  disap- 
pointment. Drizzling  rain  and  a  cold  south  wind 
ushered  in  the  new  day.  However,  we  went  down 
to  the  aerodrome,  determined  to  get  the  machine 
into  the  air  somehow. 

My  brother  and  I  walked  over  the  aerodrome, 
stamping  in  the  mud  to  try  to  find  a  hard  track  for 
the  machine.  We  got  very  wet,  but  managed  to 
find  a  pathway  with  a  fairly  hard  surface. 

All  went  well  until  I  swung  the  machine  round, 
just  preparatory  to  opening  the  engines  full  out  for 
getting  off.  In  doing  this  sharp  turn,  one  wheel 


36  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

became  a  pivot  in  the  mud  and  stuck  fast ;  so  once 
more  we  were  badly  bogged.  Our  Italian  friends 
came  to  the  rescue  again,  and  by  digging  and  pull- 
ing got  the  machine  out  of  the  hole  which  it  had 
made  for  itself.  The  ground  was  so  soft  that  the 
wheels  began  to  sink  in  slowly,  and  I  realized  that 
if  we  were  to  get  off  at  all  it  must  be  at  once. 

I  opened  out  the  engines,  but  the  machine  would 
not  move  forward,  as  the  wheels  had  become  em- 
bedded in  the  mud ;  on  the  other  hand,  the  tail  lifted 
off  the  ground  and  there  was  the  danger  of  the 
machine  standing  up  on  its  nose.  To  overcome  this 
difficulty  Sergeant  Bennett  applied  the  whole  of 
his  weight  on  to  the  tail-plane,  and  I  once  more 
opened  the  engines  full  out.  Some  of  the  Italian 
mechanics  pulled  forward  on  the  wing-tips,  and  this 
time  the  machine  started  to  move  forward  slowly. 
I  suddenly  realized  that  Bennett  was  not  on  board, 
but  as  I  had  got  the  machine  moving  at  last,  I  was 
afraid  to  stop  her  again. 

I  felt  sure  that  he  would  clamber  on  board  some- 
how, as  I  had  previously  told  him  that  as  soon  as 
the  machine  started  to  move  he  would  have  to  make 
a  flying  jump  for  it  or  else  take  the  next  train  to 
Rome. 

We  gathered  way  very  rapidly,  and,  after  leav- 
ing the  ground,  I  was  delighted  to  see  Sergeant  Ben- 
nett on  board  when  I  looked  round.  The  take-off 
was  very  exciting  and  hazardous,  as  the  Vimy  had 


LYONS — ROME  37 

to  plow  her  way  through  soft  mud  and  water. 
The  water  was  sucked  up  and  whirled  around  by 
the  propellers,  so  that  we  became  soaked  through 
and  plastered  with  liquid  mud.  I  am  sure  that  in 
a  cinema  picture  our  performance  would  resemble 
the  take-off  of  a  seaplane  more  than  that  of  a  land 
machine  rising  from  an  aerodrome.  We  were  tre- 
mendously relieved  to  find  the  freedom  of  our 
wings  again,  and  though  we  laughed  at  our  discom- 
fiture, it  was  certainly  a  providential  take-off  and 
one  that  I  should  not  care  to  repeat.  We  after- 
ward learned  that  we  had  been  doubly  lucky,  for 
the  rain  continued  to  fall  in  torrents  for  the  next 
week  and  the  aerodrome  was  temporarily  impos- 
sible. 

Our  flight  toward  Rome  was  one  long  battle 
against  heavy  head  winds  and  through  dense  clouds. 
We  had  been  in  the  air  barely  an  hour  when  the  oil- 
gauge  on  one  of  the  engines  dropped  to  zero. 

Thinking  that  something  had  gone  wrong  with 
the  lubricating  system  I  switched  off  this  engine  and 
flew  along  close  to  the  ground  on  the  other  engine, 
looking  closely  for  a  place  to  land.  Fortunately 
we  were  not  far  from  the  Italian  aerodrome  at  Ven- 
turina,  and  there  I  landed. 

Sergeant  Shiers  quickly  discovered  that  the  fault 
was  in  the  gauge  itself,  and  not  in  the  lubricating 
system,  and  it  was  only  a  matter  of  minutes  before 
we  were  in  the  air  again.  The  wind  had  increased, 


38  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

and  the  rest  of  the  voyage  to  Rome  was  boisterous 
and  unpleasant.  Our  average  ground  speed  was  a 
bare  fifty  miles  an  hour,  so  that  it  was  not  till  late  in 
the  afternoon  that  we  were  above  the  city  of  the 
Ca3sars. 

In  spite  of  the  fatigue  induced  by  our  strenuous 
experiences  of  the  day  and  our  eagerness  to  get 
down  to  earth,  I  could  not  help  being  stirred  by  the 
beauty  of  the  historic  city.  The  sun  was  peering 
through  the  space  between  the  clouds  and  the  dis- 
tant mountain  tops  and,  slanting  across  the  city, 
gave  it  an  appearance  of  majestic  splendor.  In 
this  soft  evening  light,  Rome  reflected  something 
of  its  old  glory.  Details  were  subdued,  so  that 
much  of  the  ugliness  of  its  modern  constructions 
was  softened.  Below,  "the  Yellow  Tiber,"  spanned 
by  numerous  bridges,,  curved  its  muddy  course  out 
into  the  twilight  and  to  the  sea. 

In  the  brief  space  of  a  few  minutes  we  had 
circled  the  city  within  the  walls,  and  it  was  with 
feelings  of  relief  that  we  landed  at  the  Centocelle 
aerodrome.  A  hospitable  welcome  was  accorded 
us  by  the  commandant  of  the  Italian  Flying  Corps 
and  by  the  British  air  attache.  The  latter  kindly 
attended  to  our  wants,  had  a  military  guard  placed 
over  the  machine  and  acted  as  interpreter. 


CHAPTER  IV 
ROME— CAIRO 

MY  original  plan  was  to  make  the  next 
stage  a  non-stop  flight  from  Rome  to 
Athens,  thence  to  Cairo  in  another  flight. 
This  decision  was  the  result  of  a  report  received  in 
England  that  the  aerodrome  at  Suda  Bay,  on  the 
northern  side  of  Crete,  was  flooded  and  would  be 
unfit  for  landing  till  after  winter.  The  air  attache 
at  Rome,  however,  told  me  that  the  Suda  Bay 
'drome  was  still  in  good  condition,  but  that  I  could 
make  sure  by  dropping  down  at  Taranto  and  in- 
quiring at  the  British  aerodrome  there. 

A  glance  at  the  map  will  show  that  the  Cretan 
route  saves  a  considerable  distance,  Suda  Bay  pro- 
viding a  half-way  house.  I  therefore  decided  at 
once  to  take  the  Taranto  course  and  try  to  save  the 
long  stretch  of  Mediterranean  from  Athens  to 
Cairo. 

After  daylight,  we  left  Rome  in  very  bad 
weather.  Our  route  for  the  first  few  miles  followed 
the  Appian  Way,  and  as  we  were  flying  low  we  had 
a  fine  view  of  this  ancient  highway.  The  landscape 

for  the  most  part  was  obscured  by  broken  clouds, 

39 


40  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

but  through  the  rifts  we  had  fleeting  glimpses  of 
the  wild  and  spectacular  nature  below  us. 

Naples  was  not  directly  on  our  course  to  Ta- 
ranto,  but  having  visited  it  previously  as  a  tourist, 
I  made  a  detour  in  order  to  photograph  and  gaze 
down  upon  its  wondrous  bay  from  the  sky.  To 
my  intense  disappointment,  clouds  and  mist  robbed 
us  of  my  desire,  and  even  the  mighty  Vesuvius  was 
buried  somewhere  beneath  the  sea  of  clouds;  so, 
reluctantly,  I  turned  away  and  resumed  our  course 
to  Taranto. 

Our  course  now  lay  almost  due  east  across  the 
Apennines;  but  here  again  the  clouds  had  banked 
against  the  mountains,  and  only  an  occasional  peak 
peered  through  them.  Owing  to  the  clouds  and  my 
scant  knowledge  of  the  country,  I  determined  to 
fly  low,  following,  more  or  less,  the  course  of  the 
valleys,  which  were  nearly  cloud-free. 

From  breaks  in  the  clouds,  the  sun  beamed  down 
on  to  vales  of  great  loveliness.  Numerous  small 
waterfalls  dashed  down  the  mountain  sides,  and 
streams  like  silver  threads  rippled  away  through 
the  valleys.  The  lower  steps  of  the  mountains  were 
terraced,  and  wherever  a  flat  stretch  of  soil  pre- 
sented itself,  small  homesteads  nestled,  surrounded 
by  cultivation.  Sometimes  we  would  be  only  a  few 
hundred  feet  above  the  ground  when  crossing  the 
crest  of  a  ridge;  then  we  would  burst  out  over  a 
valley  several  thousand  feet  deep. 


ROME CAIRO  41 

'  Flying  became  extremely  difficult  at  this  stage, 
owing  to  the  bumpj^  nature  of  the  atmosphere.  At 
times  the  machine  was  literally  tossed  about  like  a 
leaf,  and  for  three-quarters  of  an  hour  we  experi- 
enced some  of  the  roughest  flying  conditions  of  the 
whole  journey.  On  one  occasion  our  altimeter  did 
a  drop  of  1,000  feet,  and  bumps  of  400  and  500  feet, 
both  upward  and  downward,  were  frequent.  I  can 
only  attribute  this  aerial  disturbance  to  the  rough 
nature  of  the  country  and  the  proximity  of  clouds 
to  the  mountain  tops. 

A  strong  following  wind  was  blowing,  and  I  was 
very  much  relieved  when  we  got  clear  of  the  moun- 
tains and  were  following  the  coast  down  to  Taranto. 

The  town  of  Taranto  presents  a  busy  scene  from 
the  air.  A  great  number  of  ships  and  transports 
were  anchored  off  shore,  and  as  the  air  had  now 
cleared  somewhat,  we  had  a  glorious  view  of  this 
great  Mediterranean  seaport,  which  played  such 
an  important  part  in  the  Eastern  campaign.  We 
could  still  discern  long  lines  of  tents  in  the  British 
camp,  and  everywhere  there  was  the  great  activity 
which  characterizes  a  military  center. 

The  town  is  small  and  picturesquely  situated  at 
the  head  of  a  little  inland  bay,  which  forms  a  mag- 
nificent natural  harbor.  Below  us  the  boom  pro- 
tecting the  entrance  from  submarines  was  clearly 
discernible. 

When  we  landed  we  were  greeted  by  a  number 


42  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

of  officers  of  the  Royal  Air  Force  who  were  sta- 
tioned there,  as  Taranto  at  that  time  was  one  of 
the  main  aerodromes  on  the  route  from  London  to 
Cairo. 

The  machine  was  pegged  down  and  lashed,  and 
after  an  excellent  lunch  at  the  officers'  mess  we 
spent  the  afternoon  working  on  the  engines  and 
preparing  for  the  flight  across  the  sea  to  Crete  the 
following  day.  The  British  camp  was  particularly 
well  kept,  and  in  front  of  headquarters  there  was  a 
fine  garden  with  chrysanthemums  in  full  bloom. 

Here  I  met  many  comrades  with  whom  I  had 
been  associated  during  the  war.  This  meeting  was 
a  pleasant  relaxation  from  the  mental  strain  of  the 
past  few  days,  and  I  gleaned  much  valuable  in- 
formation about  the  aerodrome  at  Suda  Bay.  I 
was  delighted  to  learn  that  it  was  still  in  good  con- 
dition and  was  in  charge  of  Royal  Air  Force  per- 
sonnel. This  information  finally  decided  me  to 
cancel  the  idea  of  flying  on  to  Athens.  I  now  de- 
termined to  fly  to  Suda  Bay,  thus  cutting  the  long 
sea  flight  of  the  Mediterranean  into  two  shorter 
sections  and  saving  upwards  of  200  miles. 

After  a  good  night's  rest  in  comfortable  beds,  we 
were  up  at  our  usual  hour  and  made  an  early  start 
for  Suda  Bay. 

Once  again  the  weather  was  cruel  to  us.  First, 
we  flew  east  to  the  heel  of  Italy,  and  then  headed 
across  the  open  sea  to  the  island  of  Corfu.  Low 


ROME CAIRO  43 

clouds  and  rain  forced  us  down  to  800  feet  above  the 
sea.  The  flight  was  miserable.  The  driving  rain 
cut  our  faces  and  obscured  all  distant  vision.  Al- 
most before  we  realized  it,  Corfu  loomed  up  in  the 
mist,  and  so  I  altered  the  course  to  southeast  and 
flew  down  the  coast  of  Greece. 

The  bad  weather  made  our  voyage  down  this, 
rugged  coast  very  hazardous,  and  on  one  occasion, 
after  passing  through  a  particularly  low  bank  of 
cloud,  I  was  terrified  to  observe  a  rocky  island  loom 
up  in  the  mist  directly  ahead.  It  was  only  by  turn- 
ing sharply  at  right  angles  that  I  avoided  crashing 
the  machine  against  its  precipitous  sides. 

All  this  time  we  were  flying  at  a  height  of  no 
more  than  800  feet,  and  so  it  was  with  intense  relief 
that  we  reached  Cape  Matea,  the  most  southern 
point  of  Greece,  and  headed  across  the  sea  to 
Crete. 

The  clouds  now  lifted,  and  the  mists  dissipated, 
unfolding  a  scene  of  rare  enchantment.  The  high 
ranges  of  Crete  soon  loomed  up  before  us.  A  layer 
of  cloud  encircled  the  island  like  a  great  wreath. 
The  mountains  rose  nobly  above  it,  and  the  coast, 
rocky  and  surf -beaten,  could  be  seen  below.  All 
this,  set  in  a  sea  of  wondrous  blue,  bathed  in  bright 
sunshine,  lay  before  us.  It  was  a  gladsome  and 
welcome  sight. 

Wheeling  above  the  town  of  Canea,  which  is  on 
the  opposite  side  of  a  narrow  neck  to  Suda  Bay,  we 


44  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

soon  located  the  aerodrome  and  circled  above  it  pre- 
paratory to  landing. 

The  aerodrome  is  not  of  the  best  and  is  rather 
a  tricky  place  for  negotiating  a  landing,  being  sur- 
rounded on  three  sides  by  high,  rocky  hills ;  but  we 
succeeded  in  making  a  good  landing.  Here,  too, 
we  were  welcomed  by  an  officer  of  the  Royal  Air 
Force  and  a  small  crowd  of  inhabitants,  who  gath- 
ered round  the  machine,  examining  it — and  us— 
with  curious  interest. 

With  the  knowledge  that  on  the  morrow  our 
longest  oversea  flight,  in  this  half  of  the  voyage, 
awaited  us,  we  spent  most  of  the  afternoon  in  a  par- 
ticularly thorough  overhaul  of  the  machine,  and 
then  accepted  our  R.  A.  F.  friend's  invitation  to 
look  over  the  town  and  take  tea  at  his  house.  We 
found  Canea  to  be  an  extremely  picturesque  and 
interesting  old  place.  Its  massive  castle  walls,  its 
narrow  cobbled  streets,  and  its  quaint,  old-fash- 
ioned, but  substantial  buildings,  reminiscent  of  a 
bygone  age,  are  all  in  keeping  with  its  history, 
which  runs  back  of  the  Christian  era,  and  its 
legends,  which  run  back  a  league  or  two  further. 

Our  pilot  excited  our  admiration  by  the  expert 
way  in  which  he  steered  us  through  a  maze  of 
rough-surfaced  alleyways,  our  Ford  causing  a 
great  scattering  of  children  and  dogs — both  of 
which  appear  to  thrive  here  in  large  numbers. 

Eventually  he  conducted  us  to  a  quaint  little 


ROME CAIRO  45 

cafe — a  sort  of  tavern,  at  which  the  people  seem  by 
custom  to  foregather  for  a  cup  of  coffee  before  din- 
ner. The  cafe-au-lait  was  excellent,  and,  as  our 
host  racily  recounted  his  experiences,  I  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  life  in  Canea,  small  and  isolated  as 
it  is,  holds  compensations,  and  is  not  nearly  as  dull 
as  it  appears  at  first  glance. 

The  short  run  home  to  our  R.  A.  F.  friend's  house 
was  certainly  not  monotonous,  but  we  arrived  un- 
damaged and  undamaging.  Since  the  house  was 
rather  small  to  accommodate  unexpected  guests,  we 
cheerfully  agreed  to  sleep  in  the  small  British  hos- 
pital close  by.  We  turned  in  early,  planning  to 
take  a  good  night's  rest  and  get  away  betimes  in 
the  morning. 

A  few  minutes  after  putting  out  the  lights,  I 
heard  my  brother  tossing  about  in  bed,  and  called 
out  to  know  if  anything  ailed  him.  "Yes,"  he  said, 
"I  fancy  I'm  getting  prickly  heat."  A  few 
minutes  later  I  got  a  touch  of  it  myself,  and, 
bounding  out  of  bed,  reached  for  the  candle.  The 
beds  were  full  of  prickly  heat !  "Prickly  heat"  held 
the  fort  in  large  and  hungry  battalions. 

We  retreated  and  spent  the  night  curled  up  on 
the  floor  of  an  adjoining  room.  When  we  turned 
out  we  found  that  it  had  been  raining  heavily  and 
the  air  was  still  thick  with  drizzle.  The  prospect 
was  not  good  for  crossing  the  island,  which,  though 
only  a  few  miles  wide,  is  intersected  by  an  irregular 


46  14,000    MILES   THROUGH   THE   AIR 

range  of  mountains,  of  which  the  famous  Mount 
Ida  is  one  of  the  several  peaks.  But,  with  our  ex- 
perience of  the  muddy  aerodrome  at  Pisa  fresh  in 
our  minds,  we  decided  to  get  aloft  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible rather  than  risk  the  ground,  which  was  already 
becoming  soft  and  degenerating  into  a  bog. 

We  took  off  quite  easily,  and  soon  after  leaving 
the  ground  encountered  a  layer  of  cloud,  but 
pushed  through  and  out — only  to  find  ourselves  be- 
neath another  stratum.  Our  charted  route  lay 
southeast,  then  south,  with  the  southernmost  point 
of  the  island  as  the  objective,  and  I  had  been  told 
that  it  was  easy  to  follow  a  rough  track  leading 
from  Canea  through  a  pass  in  the  mountains;  but, 
with  clouds  above  and  below,  it  was  not  so  easy. 

I  decided  to  try  to  locate  the  pass  in  the  hope  of 
getting  through  without  the  necessity  of  climbing 
above  the  mountains,  and  so  wasting  valuable  time. 
Fortune  favored  us.  I  found  the  pass  and  to  my 
joy  discovered  that  there  was  just  sufficient  room 
for  us  to  scrape  over  the  top  without  entering  the 
cloud.  We  appeared  to  be  only  a  few  feet  above 
the  rocks  when  we  cleared  the  crest,  but  it  was 
preferable  to  having  to  barge  blindly  through  the 
clouds,  running  the  consequent  risk  of  hitting  a 
mountain  crag. 

On  the  southern  side  of  the  ranges  the  air  was 
much  clearer,  and  we  were  soon  flying  over  the 
coast-line.  We  took  observations  and  set  a  com- 


HOME — CAIRO  47 

pass  course  for  Sollum,  on  the  African  coast.  Two 
hundred  and  fifty  miles  of  open  sea  had  to  be 
crossed.  Before  we  started  Bennett  and  Shiers 
had  given  a  final  look  over  the  engines,  which  had 
been  running  perfectly,  and  almost  the  last  thing 
they  did  before  climbing  aboard  was  to  inflate  the 
four  spare  inner  tubes  of  our  landing  wheels ;  they 
would  make  first-class  life-buoys  if  we  had  to  come 
down  between  Crete  and  Africa. 

I  would  have  preferred  flying  at  about  5,000  feet, 
but  our  enemies,  the  clouds,  which  ever  harassed 
us,  forced  us  to  fly  at  an  altitude  of  from  1,500  to 
2,000  feet  above  the  face  of  the  sea.  There  was  a 
light,  favoring  wind,  and  the  going  was  smooth  and 
even ;  but  as  the  land  dropped  behind,  and  mile  after 
mile  was  flown,  one  began  to  realize  the  meaning 
of  the  term,  "a  waste  of  waters." 

On  and  on  we  flew,  yet,  save  for  the  wind  of  our 
own  passage  through  the  air,  could  scarcely  tell  that 
we  were  moving;  for,  unlike  the  flight  across  the 
land  and  down  the  seacoast,  there  was  nothing  by 
which  to  gauge  our  movement.  The  cloud  roof 
was  dull  and  uninteresting ;  the  sea-floor  gray,  deso- 
late, and  empty  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach. 

My  brother  took  out  his  case  and  began  writing 
letters.  I  studied  the  charts  and  the  compass  and 
kept  the  machine  on  the  course.  Then  suddenly, 
a  little  to  the  right  of  the  course,  appeared  a  minute 
object  that  separated  into  two  as  we  drew  nearer, 


48  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIK 

and  finally  resolved  itself  into  a  pair  of  vessels 
linked  together  with  a  tow-line.  Very  tiny  they 
looked  down  there  and  very  lonely. 

We  were  heading  for  Sollum,  on  the  African 
coast,  250  miles  from  Crete,  as  the  'plane  flies.  I 
wondered  if  these  ships  were  making  the  same  port, 
and  how  long  it  would  take  them  to  do  the  journey 
that  we  were  counting  on  accomplishing  in  about 
four  hours !  I  felt  quite  sorry  for  the  poor  midgets 
toiling  along  with  their  tow-rope,  and  speculated  on 
what  would  happen  if  a  big  sea  got  up.  Doubtless 
they  looked  up  at  us — they  must  have  heard  our 
engines  booming — and  wondered,  too.  Perhaps 
they  envied  us  our  wings;  perhaps  they  pitied  us 
and  congratulated  themselves  on  the  sound  decks 
beneath  their  feet. 

Ten  minutes  and  they  were  far  behind  us;  an- 
other ten  and  they  were  out  of  sight ;  but  they  had, 
without  knowing  it,  cheered  us  immensely.  They 
proved  the  only  speck  of  life  we  saw  on  all  that  area 
of  waters.  Once  more  we  entered  the  loneliness 
of  sea  and  sky,  but  we  had  the  sense  of  having 
passed  a  definite  point,  and  now  we  kept  a  keen 
lookout  for  land. 

Our  first  glimpse  of  Africa  was  of  a  barren, 
desert  coast-line,  but  it  was  a  welcome  sight  none 
the  less.  On  reaching  Sollum  we  turned  and  flew 
along  the  coast  as  far  as  Mersa  Matruh.  The  land 
below  was  flat  and  uninteresting  desert,  with  noth- 


ROME CAIRO  49 

ing  to  relieve  the  monotony.  Without  landing  at 
Mersa  Matruh,  we  headed  direct  for  Cairo,  across 
the  gray-brown  sea  of  sand,  passing  over  Wadi 
Natrum,  which  is  merely  a  cluster  of  straggling 
palms  beside  a  salt-pan. 

We  were  not  sorry  to  descry  those  landmarks  of 
the  ages,  the  Pyramids,  and  soon  we  could  pick  out 
the  minarets  and  mosques  of  the  Egyptian  capital 
itself.  Now  we  were  winging  our  way  over  Old 
Father  Nile  and  across  landmarks  that  were  as 
familiar  to  me  as  the  Heliopolis  aerodrome  itself, 
to  which  destination  I  was  guiding  the  Vimy. 

No  wonder  I  glanced  affectionately  over  the 
silent  engines  as  we  came  to  rest.  I  felt  extremely 
happy  as  we  sat  there  a  moment  or  two,  waiting  for 
the  fellows  to  come  up  and  welcome  us.  We  had 
come  through  from  Suda  Bay,  a  distance  of  650 
miles,  in  a  non-stop  flight  of  seven  and  a  half  hours, 
thus  completing  the  first  and  worst  of  the  four 
stages  into  which  I  had  divided  the  total  journey. 

That  bit  of  route  from  London  to  Cairo — pio- 
neered in  1917  by  my  old  commanding  officer, 
General  Borton — had  taken  its  toll,  and  I  had  been 
more  than  a  little  afraid  of  it  on  account  of  the  pos- 
sibility of  bad  weather  and  my  ignorance  of  the 
country  and  the  aerodromes.  And  here  we  were, 
safe,  with  our  machine  as  sound  as  when  she  started. 

A  familiar  stage,  with  all  the  prospects  of  fine 
weather,  lay  before  us.  There  was  some  excuse  for 


50  14,000    MILES    THROUGH    THE   AIR 

a  flash  of  thankfulness  and  exultation.  Then  the 
boys  were  greeting  us,  and  a  rousing  welcome  it  was 
from  men  with  whom  I  had  served  during  the  war. 
Our  mechanics,  too,  found  old  comrades  who  hauled 
them  off  to  celebrate  the  occasion  before  attending 
to  the  engines. 

It  was  quite  like  old  times  to  climb  into  a  car,  to 
spin  through  well-known  thoroughfares  to  Shep- 
heard's,  to  sink  luxuriantly  into  the  arms  of  a  great 
and  familiar  lounge  chair,  and  to  yarn  over  the 
events  that  had  happened  since  last  I  occupied  it. 

My  friends  tried  to  persuade  me  to  attend  a 
dance  that  was  being  held  there  that  night,  but  I 
needed  all  the  sleep  I  could  get,  and  so  declined 
reluctantly.  But  for  an  hour  or  more  I  sat  in  an 
easy  chair  on  the  well-known  verandah,  and  listened 
to  the  sweet  strains  of  the  music  inside,  and  that 
other  strange  blend  of  street  cries — veritable  kalei- 
doscope of  sound — that  may  be  heard  nowhere  save 
in  Cairo.  I  noted,  too,  the  beauty  and  chivalry 
coming  in,  and  watched  the  curious  procession  of 
all  sorts  passing  by. 

I  had  to  shake  myself  to  be  assured  that  it  was  not 
a  splendid  and  fantastic  dream.  As  we  lounged 
there  a  messenger  boy  brought  a  cable  for  me — we 
had  sent  our  own  messages  off  long  before.  It  was 
from  General  Borton,  congratulating  us  on  our  safe 
arrival  in  Egypt  and  wishing  us  good  luck  for  the 
next  stage. 


ROME CAIRO  51 

While  I  was  reading  this  kind  remembrance  from 
my  old  C.  O.,  an  Arab  paper  boy  came  crying  his 
wares,  and  I  bought  a  news-sheet  and  read  with 
amused  interest  the  story  of  our  doings  during  the 
last  few  days.  I  also  read,  with  a  shock  of  keen 
regret,  of  the  accident  that  had  befallen  our  gallant 
competitors,  Lieutenants  Douglas  and  Ross,  who 
had  both  been  killed  practically  at  the  starting-post, 
just  a  few  days  after  we  left,  through  the  crashing 
of  their  machine.  Then  we  turned  to  the  column 
that  recorded  the  progress  of  Monsieur  Poulet,  who 
had  left  Paris  thirty  days  before  and  who,  we  saw 
by  the  cables,  was  now  in  India. 

We  had  certainly  gained  a  good  deal  on  the 
Frenchman,  but  he  still  held  a  big  lead,  and  we  were 
keen  to  get  on  with  the  next  stage.  We  turned  in 
that  night  feeling  happier  and  more  rested  than  at 
any  moment  since  we  left  England,  and  we  slept 
like  proverbial  tops. 


CHAPTER  V 
CAIRO  TO  BAGDAD 

WE  had  intended  staying  a  day  in  Cairo  to 
rest,  but,  owing  to  the  day  we  lost  at 
Pisa,  we  were  now  one  day  behind  our 
scheduled  time;  so  I  decided  that  it  must  be  made 
up.    There  had  been  a  heavy  fog  over  night,  and  on 
our  arrival  at  the  aerodrome  the  weather  conditions 
were  not  at  all  enticing.     Telegraphic  reports  from 
Palestine  indicated  "Weather  conditions  unsuited 
for  flying." 

My  inclinations  wavered.  We  were  at  a  hos- 
pitable aerodrome,  surrounded  by  old  friends ;  rain 
had  begun  to  fall  and  we  were  all  very  tired.  The 
Vimy,  however,  had  been  overhauled  the  night  be- 
fore and  everything  stood  ready.  Perhaps  at  the 
end  of  the  journey  we  would  be  more  limb-weary, 
and  a  single  day  might  discount  the  success  of  the 
venture ;  so  I  made  up  my  mind  to  proceed. 

We  took  off  from  Heliopolis  aerodrome  with 
the  cheers  of  my  old  war  comrades  sounding  above 
our  engines.  For  fifty  miles  we  followed  the 
Ismailia  Canal  to  Tel-el-Kebir.  The  banks  were 
bordered  by  a  patchwork  of  densely  cultivated  and 

52 


CAIRO   TO   BAGDAD  53 

irrigated  lands ;  beyond,  arid  barrenness,  sand,  and 
nothing. 

On  the  canal  the  great  white  lateen  sails  of 
dhows  and  feluccas  in  large  number  resembled  a 
model  yacht  regatta.  It  was  all  very  beautiful  and 
wonderful.  Northward  the  waterways,  canals, 
and  lakes  of  the  Nile  delta  stood  out  like  silver 
threads  woven  around  the  margins  of  patches  in  a 
patch-quilt,  for  the  sun  had  now  burst  through  the 
clouds,  and  all  the  world  sprang  into  life  and  light. 
From  aloft,  without  the  sun,  the  world  is  a  gloomy- 
looking  place,  doleful  and  dead. 

Over  the  famous  old  battlefield  of  1882— Tel-el- 
Kebir — where  Arabi  Pasha  suffered  ignominiously 
by  the  valor  of  British  arms,  even  now  there  was  a 
camp  of  British  and  Indian  cavalry. 

And  soon  to  the  canal  that  links  north  with 
south — a  straight  cut  of  deep -blue  water,  running 
to  the  horizon  transversely  to  our  course — and 
ahead  the  gray  desert  sands,  only  limited  by  the 
blue  sky. 

Below,  a  P.  and  O.  steamer,  heading  south, 
passes  down  the  Suez  Canal.  Perhaps  she  is  bound 
for  Australia ;  she  will  call  in  at  Adelaide,  my  home 
and  destination!  With  a  smile,  I  contrasted  the 
old  and  the  new  methods  of  transportation,  and  a 
throb  of  exultation  thrilled  us  all.  Still,  we  won- 
dered— unspoken  the  thoughts — who  would  reach 
Australia  first. 


54  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

Kantara  now  lay  below  us,  that  vast  series  of 
store-dumps — a  mushroom  city  beneath  canvas— 
which  had  sprung  into  being  since  the  British  occu- 
pation of  Palestine,  and  from  which  practically  all 
commissariat  and  munition  supplies  were  drawn. 
As  we  passed  over  Kantara,  feelings  of  confidence, 
mingled  with  no  small  satisfaction,  filled  me.  We 
were  now  entering  upon  country  I  knew  as  well  as 
my  own  homeland,  for  I  had  spent  six  months  trav- 
ersing it  with  the  Australian  Light  Horse  before  I 
started  flying;  furthermore,  I  had  been  over  the 
entire  air  route  which  now  lay  before  us,  as  far  as 
Java. 

The  section  from  Hounslow  to  Cairo  I  had  al- 
ways regarded  with  some  trepidation,  on  account  of 
the  winter  storms  ancj  bad  weather.  Now  we  could 
look  forward  to  improving  atmospheric  conditions 
and  good  aerodromes  as  far  as  Calcutta  at  least. 
This  enabled  us  to  view  more  rosily  the  ultimate 
issue. 

Kantara  soon  lay  beyond  the  rolling  eternity  of 
sand  which  all  who  served  through  the  rigors  and 
privations  of  the  desert  campaign  call  "Hell."  It 
was  somewhere  in  these  regions  that  the  Children  of 
Israel  wandered  for  forty  years.  Forty  minutes 
in  the  Vimy  was  quite  sufficient  for  us.  We  looked 
down  upon  that  golden  sea  of  desolation,  with  only 
here  and  there  a  solitary  clump  of  date  palms  that 
boasts  the  name  oasis,  and  we  felt  very  sympathetic 


CAIRO   TO   BAGDAD  55 

toward  the  Children  of  Israel.  Two  things  alone 
stood  out  clearly  in  the  wilderness — the  iron  way, 
which  had  been  thrust  forward  to  carry  supplies 
from  Kantara  to  the  fighting  front,  and  the  line 
of  water-main  beside  it. 

We  were  flying  at  an  altitude  of  1,500  feet,  so 
that  it  was  possible  to  pick  out  all  details  readily. 
As  we  passed  over  the  old  battlefield  of  Romani,  I 
picked  out  my  old  camping  site  and  machine-gun 
nests. 

El-Arish,  Rafa,  Gaza — all  came  into  being;  then 
out  over  the  brim  of  the  world  of  sand.  Gaza  from 
the  air  is  as  pitiful  a  sight  as  it  is  from  the  ground. 
In  its  loneliness  and  ruin,  an  atmosphere  of  great 
sadness  has  descended  upon  it.  On  the  site  of  a 
once  prosperous  town  stands  war's  memorial — a 
necropolis  of  shattered  buildings.  The  trenches 
before  Gaza  and  on  the  hill  Ali  Muntar  looked  as 
though  they  had  been  but  recently  vacated. 

Next  we  passed  over  the  Medjdel  aerodrome, 
and  as  I  gazed  down  at  the  marks  where  the  hangars 
had  stood,  many  memories  of  bygone  days  came 
pleasantly  back  to  me.  Soon  after  leaving  Medjdel 
we  ran  into  dense  clouds,  and  on  reaching  Ramleh 
heavy  rain  began  to  fall.  There  was  an  R.  A.  F. 
squadron  station  on  the  old  aerodrome,  and  I  was 
sorely  tempted  to  land  and  renew  old  friendships, 
for  I  had  been  stationed  at  this  aerodrome  for  five 
months  at  the  latter  end  of  the  war.  However,  this 


56  14,000    MILES   THROUGH   THE   AIR 

was  no  joy-ride;  so  I  reluctantly  passed  over  this 
haven  of  refuge,  and  then  once  more  out  into  the 
bleak  world  of  storm  and  rain;  but  I  was  much 
cheered  by  the  whole  squadron  turning  out  on  to 
their  aerodrome  and  waving  up  to  us. 

My  past  experiences  in  Palestine  rainstorms 
steeled  me  for  what  was  to  follow,  and  from  Ram- 
leh  to  the  Sea  of  Galilee  the  weather  was  despicable 
and  smote  us  relentlessly.  The  torrential  rain  cut 
our  faces  and  well-nigh  blinded  us.  We  were 
soaked  through  and  miserably  cold.  One  thing 
only  comforted  me,  and  that  was  the  merry  song  of 
the  engines.  Whether  "in  breeze  or  gale  or  storm," 
they  heeded  not.  On  through  the  rain  and  wrack 
they  bore  us,  as  in  the  times  of  warmth  and  sun- 
shine, singing  their  deep-throated  song — "All  goes 
well!" 

Fortunately  I  knew  the  country  very  well,  for 
after  passing  Nazareth  I  had  to  follow  the  winding 
course  of  the  valleys,  owing  to  low  clouds,  until  the 
Jordan  was  reached. 

The  River  Jordan  presented  an  extraordinary 
sight.  The  main  stream  has  eroded  a  narrow  chan- 
nel between  wide  banks,  down  which  its  waters 
meander  in  an  aimless  way,  zigzagging  a  serpentine 
course  across  a  forbidding  plain  of  great  barrenness 
and  desolation.  A  narrow  green  belt,  somber  in 
color  and  age,  pursues  the  river  through  the  Jordan 
Valley,  which  for  the  greater  part  is  an  arid  waste, 


CAIRO   TO   BAGDAD  57 

speckled  with  sparse  and  stunted  shrubs.  The 
river  enters  the  Dead  Sea  at  nearly  1,300  feet  below 
the  level  of  the  Mediterranean. 

The  Sea  of  Galilee  is,  roughly,  700  feet  above 
Dead  Sea  level,  and,  as  we  were  flying  500  feet 
above  the  river,  most  of  our  journey  through  the 
Jordan  Valley  was  done  at  an  elevation  several 
hundred  feet  below  the  level  of  the  ocean. 

On  reaching  the  Sea  of  Galilee  the  weather  im- 
proved. As  we  passed  over  the  great  lake,  where 
deep-green  waters  rest  in  a  bowl  encompassed  by 
abrupt  hills,  strange  emotions  passed  over  me,  for 
below  us  lay  a  hallowed  place — a  scene  of  ineffable 
charm,  peace,  and  sanctity. 

I  now  headed  the  Vimy  northeast  for  Damascus 
and  climbed  up  to  5,000  feet.  Occasional  cloud 
patches  passed  below  us,  but  the  landscape  for  the 
most  part  was  drear  and  featureless,  save  for  a  line 
of  snow-clad  summits  that  lay  away  to  the  north, 
Mount  Hermon  and  the  Anti-Lebanon  Mountains. 

The  flight  through  Palestine  had  been  an  ordeal ; 
extreme  weariness  gripped  us  all,  for  we  were  still 
soaking  wet  and  very  cold. 

Then  once  more  joy  filled  our  thankful  hearts 
when  our  straining  eyes  picked  up  Damascus,  a 
miraged  streak  on  the  horizon  of  a  desert  wilder- 
ness. The  streak  became  irregular.  It  grew  into 
a  band  assuming  height  and  breadth,  minute  ex- 
crescences, and  well-defined  contours.  Color  crept 


58  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

in;  details  resolved,  developed,  enlarged;  a  city 
arose  from  out  the  waste  of  sands,  an  oasis,  glori- 
ous, magical,  enchanting — this  was  Damascus.  A 
city  almost  ethereal  in  its  beauty,  rearing  a  forest  of 
slender  minarets  and  cupolas,  surrounded  by  dense 
groves  and  woods,  had  sprung  into  being,  as  if  by 
magic,  from  the  Syrian  desert. 

Although  one  of  the  world's  most  ancient  cities, 
age  has  dealt  lightly  with  Damascus.  From  the 
air  it  appears  no  older  than  the  blaze  of  poplars  and 
cypresses  that  features  the  gardens  and  shades  the 
sun-baked  mud-houses  and  mosques.  Beyond  the 
city,  beautiful  gardens  and  glades  extend,  grad- 
ually dwindling  and  blending  into  the  desert  spaces. 

To  the  north  and  west  rise  the  multi-colored  foot- 
hills of  the  Anti-Lebanon  Mountains,  flanked  by 
the  higher  peaks  with  radiant  snow  mantlings. 

Damascus  invited  and  offered  a  haven  of  rest. 
Great  was  our  joy  on  touching  the  ground;  greater 
still  to  be  welcomed  by  old  comrades,  and  to  be 
cared  for.  The  Vimy,  too,  was  looked  after. 
Bennett  and  Shiers  attended  to  their  beloved  en- 
gines, while  I  overhauled  the  controls,  and  my 
brother  Keith  filled  up  with  "Shell,"  to  be  ready 
for  an  early  start  on  the  morrow. 

After  attending  to  the  machine,  we  drove  in  an- 
other machine — a  Ford — into  Damascus  and  took 
lodgings  at  the  leading  hotel,  where  the  fare  was 
excellent  and  sleep  undisturbed  by  the  parasites 


OVER  MESOPOT  TO  KARACHI  59 

common  to  the  country.  Damascus  is  wholly  Ori- 
ental, though  in  many  ways  it  is  adopting  Western 
fashions  and  customs.  Trams  run  in  the  city,  and 
though  their  speed  harmonizes  with  the  indolent 
habits  of  the  Orient,  they  seem  strangely  out  of 
place,  as  also  does  the  electric  light  that  sheds  its 
beams  of  searching  and  misplaced  effulgence  in  the 
bazaars  and  squalid  stalls,  where  shadow,  deep 
shadow,  is  essential  to  effect  a  successful  sale. 

I  looked  out  of  my  window  before  turning  in.  A 
myriad  spires,  misty  and  intangible,  pointed  to  a 
heaven  brilliant  with  stars :  a  faint  breeze  drifted  in 
from  the  desert.  The  atmosphere  was  laden  with 
mystery  and  enchantment.  I  felt  contented.  The 
skies  promised  sunshine,  and  henceforth  the 
weather  would  be  good ! 

Conceive  my  dismay  when,  on  awakening  with 
the  morning,  I  discovered  heavy  rain  falling:  still 
further  was  I  dismayed  to  find  the  aerodrome  sur- 
face rapidly  becoming  soft,  and  the  wheels  of  the 
Vimy  sinking  in.  As  there  was  no  sign  of  the 
weather  clearing  up,  we  greased  our  tires  to  assist 
their  passage  through  the  sticky  clay,  started  up  the 
engines,  and,  to  my  unspeakable  relief,  the  Vimy 
moved  ahead. 

But  the  take-off  was  not  lacking  in  excitement. 
The  propellers  sucked  up  water  and  mud,  whirling 
in  all  directions  (we  happened  to  be  included  in 
one  of  them) ,  and  so  we  rose  into  the  air,  once  more 


60  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

to  be  cut  by  the  lash  of  the  elements.  To  my  in- 
tense relief,  the  storm  did  not  extend  more  than  a 
score  of  miles  beyond  Damascus. 

We  were  now  heading  for  Tadmur;  again  the 
desert  extended  before  us — a  rolling  expanse  of 
dreary  gray  sand  over  which  it  was  some  satisfac- 
tion to  speed  at  eighty-five  miles  per  hour.  Tad- 
mur is  a  miserable  village  of  mud  huts  that  has 
sprung  up  amidst  the  noble  ruins  of  ancient  Pal- 
myra. The  modern  bazaars  are  built  for  shelter 
among  the  ancient  columns  and  fragmentary  walls 
of  the  Temple  of  the  Sun.  These  magnificent 
ruins  are  the  bleached  skeletons  of  a  glorious  past, 
austere  and  dignified  even  in  the  squalor  and  mean- 
ness that  surround  them.  From  Tadmur  the  route 
lay  east  to  Abu  Kemal,  on  the  Euphrates. 

Two  hours  later  we  observed  an  encampment 
consisting  of  several  hundred  black  goat-hair  tents, 
and  gathered  around  them  were  vast  herds  of 
camels.  As  we  were  flying  low  at  the  time,  our 
sudden  appearance  caused  a  stampede,  not  only 
among  the  beasts,  but  also  the  occupants  of  the 
tents.  They  decamped,  evidently  terror-stricken. 
We  subsequently  learned  that  the  camels  were  the 
spoils  of  a  victorious  raid.  Perhaps  the  raiders 
thought  we  were  the  Judgment ! 

On  reaching  Abu  Kemal  we  turned  southeast,  fol- 
lowing down  the  course  of  the  Euphrates.  It  was  a 
pleasant  change,  after  the  interminable  desert,  to 


CAIRO   TO   BAGDAD  61 

pursue  the  lazy  course  of  the  great  river  and  to  pass 
again  over  fertile  tracts  and  numerous  villages. 

The  most  remarkable  of  these  villages  is  Hit,  not 
only  on  account  of  the  ancient  city  which  lies  buried 
here,  but  because  there  are  several  bitumen  springs, 
from  which  this  valuable  commodity  oozes  in  vast 
quantities.  Practically  every  native  who  owns  a 
boat  on  the  Euphrates  has  copied  Noah,  who  was 
commanded  to  "pitch  the  ark  within  and  without 
with  pitch." 

On  leaving  Abu  Kemal  we  encountered  strong 
head  winds,  which  diminished  our  speed  consider- 
ably. I  was  becoming  anxious  as  to  whether  we 
could  reach  Bagdad  before  dark,  as  I  was  not  keen 
to  make  a  night  landing  there. 

The  sun  was  fast  sinking  in  the  west,  and  as  we 
flew  over  Ramadie  it  dipped  below  the  horizon.  I 
decided  that  there  would  not  be  time  to  do  the  forty 
miles  to  Bagdad  before  dark.  We  selected  a  suit- 
able landing  ground  among  some  old  trenches,  close 
to  a  cavalry  camp,  and  landed. 

We  had  landed  on  the  old  Ramadie  battlefield, 
which  was  one  of  the  notable  sites  of  the  Mesopo- 
tamian  campaign.  Soon  after  landing  the  C.  O. 
of  the  Indian  cavalry  regiment  came  out  to  greet 
us,  and  proffered  the  hospitality  of  his  camp. 

We  were  delighted  to  learn  there  was  a  small  sup- 
ply of  aviation  petrol  here,  and  we  obtained  suf- 
ficient to  carry  us  through  to  Basra  without  having 


62  14,000    MILES   THROUGH   THE   AIR 

to  land  at  Bagdad.  An  Indian  guard  was 
mounted  over  the  machine,  and  the  Vimy  was  se- 
curely lashed  down  for  the  night. 

The  C.  O.  of  the  10th  Indian  Lancers  and  his 
staff  were  thoroughly  pleased  to  see  us,  and  over 
the  excellent  dinner  that  was  prepared  we  told  the 
latest  happenings  in  London — their  home.  They 
were  a  fine,  stout-hearted  lot  of  fellows  and  greatly 
we  appreciated  their  hospitality.  We  felt  truly 
sorry  for  them  stationed  in  such  a  remote,  isolated 
place  as  Ramadie. 

About  11  o'clock  that  night  a  heavy  windstorm 
swooped  down  upon  us,  and  my  brother  and  my- 
self rushed  out  to  the  machine.  The  wind  had  sud- 
denly changed,  and  was  now  blowing  hard  on  the 
tail  of  the  machine.  The  Vimy  was  in  imminent 
danger  of  being  blown  over  and  crashed. 

We  turned  out  fifty  men  from  the  nearest  camp. 
They  hung  on  to  the  machine  until  we  started  up 
the  engines  and  swung  her  head  round  into  the 
wind.  It  was  a  pitch-dark  night,  and  the  gale 
whirled  the  sand  into  blinding  eddies,  cutting  our 
faces  and  eyes.  One  very  severe  gust  caught  one 
of  the  ailerons  and  snapped  the  top  balance-wires. 
This  allowed  all  four  ailerons  to  flap  about  in  a  very 
dangerous  manner,  and  it  looked  as  though  they 
would  all  be  wrenched  off  before  we  could  secure 
them. 

By  weight  of  arms,  however,  we  eventually  man- 


CAIRO   TO    BAGDAD  63 

aged  to  secure  the  ailerons  before  serious  damage 
was  done.  At  last  the  machine  was  turned,  facing 
the  wind,  and  in  that  position  successfully  weath- 
ered the  storm.  Throughout  the  rest  of  the  night 
the  guard  hung  on  to  the  machine  and  all  stood  by. 

The  storm  abated  by  morning.  We  found  that 
all  the  aileron  control  wires  were  strained  or  broken. 
The  sand  had  choked  up  everything  exposed  to  the 
weather,  and  by  the  time  the  damage  had  been  re- 
paired and  our  tanks  filled  with  petrol  it  was  noon. 

For  the  first  time  since  leaving  London  we  had 
promise  of  a  good  flying  day  with  a  following  wind. 
This  good  fortune  atoned  for  our  troubles  of  the 
night  and  for  our  lack  of  sleep.  We  were  sweeping 
along  at  100  miles  an  hour,  and  in  less  than  thirty 
minutes  Bagdad  lay  below.  Glorious  old  Bagdad! 
Bagdad  to-day,  faded  of  all  its  old  glory,  is  a  place 
of  poverty  and  decay,  alluring  only  through  name 
and  association.  Yet,  in  spite  of  its  meanness  and 
squalor,  the  magic  city  of  Haroun-al-Raschid,  the 
hero  of  the  Arabian  Nights,  of  Aladdin,  and  Sinbad 
the  Sailor,  shall  remain  immortal. 


CHAPTER  VI 
OVER  MESOPOT   TO   KARACHI 

IT  is  hard  to  believe  that  the  land  above  which 
we  were  now  speeding  was  once  the  garden  of 
the  world.  Oh,  where  is  thy  wealth  and  pros- 
perity, fair  Babylonia?  Despoiled  by  the  ravages 
of  the  Ottoman  Empire,  misruled  and  wasted  by 
the  accursed  methods  of  the  Turkish  Government, 
it  seems  incredible  that  this  void  of  marsh  and  waste 
land  was  once  a  country  of  milk  and  honey,  a  land 
of  pomp  and  luxury  'that  led  the  civilization  of  the 
world. 

From  a  height,  the  aspect  of  Bagdad  is  more  in- 
viting than  from  the  ground.  A  maze  of  narrow 
streets,  wandering  through  a  tesselated  plan  of  flat 
roofs,  of  spires  and  green  splashes  of  cultivation 
and  date  palms,  of  a  great  muddy  brown  river,  cov- 
ered with  innumerable  little  round  dots,  which  on 
closer  investigation  resolve  themselves  into  circular 
tublike  boats — all  this  is  Bagdad,  and  the  impres- 
sion is  pleasing  and  reminiscent  of  bygone  glory. 

There  is  but  one  thoroughfare  that  stands  preem- 
inent to-day  in  Bagdad — a  wide  road  which  the 

64 


OVER  MESOPOT  TO  KARACHI  65 

Turks  had  cut  through  the  city  to  make  way  for 
the  retreat  of  their  routed  army  before  the  victori- 
ous British  under  General  Maude ;  and  so  now  may 
we  see  the  dawn  of  a  new  era  and  fairer  days  ahead 
for  this  outcast  land. 

Every  mile  of  land  and  river  above  which  we  were 
passing  was  a  measure  of  history  of  valorous  effort, 
mighty  deeds,  and  heroism.  The  map  of  Mesopo- 
tamia unrolled  before  us.  Here  lay  the  old  battle- 
fields of  Ctesiphon,  Laff ,  Tubal,  the  trench  systems 
still  being  clearly  observable. 

Kut  el  Amara,  where  was  enacted  the  most  dra- 
matic and  heroic  episode  of  the  Mesopotamian 
campaign,  next  came  into  view.  For  five  awful 
months  that  little  garrison  of  British  men,  led  and 
cheered  by  their  beloved  general,  had  held  out 
against  the  Turk,  disease,  and  the  pangs  of  starva- 
tion. The  glorious  story  of  the  defense  of  Kut  and 
the  surrender  is  one  of  those  splendid  episodes  that 
thrill  the  heart  of  every  Englishman,  and  which 
shall  live  immortal  with  the  memories  of  Lucknow, 
Delhi,  Khartoum,  Ladysmith,  and  Mafeking. 

In  describing  Mesopotamia  I  am  inclined  to 
quote  the  terse,  if  ineloquent,  account  of  the  British 
Tommy  who  wrote  of  it:  "A  hell  of  a  place,  with 
two  big  rivers  and  miles  and  miles  of  dam  all  be- 
tween them."  Yet  the  possibilities  of  development 
are  infinite  and  the  potentialities  golden — a  land  of 
suspended  fertility,  where  animation  and  prosper- 


66  14,000    MILES   THROUGH   THE   AIR 

ity  lie  for  the  time  dormant — a  wondrous  garden 
where  centuries  of  neglect  and  rapine  have  reaped 
desolation  and  barrenness.  The  land  is  athirst, 
but  the  two  great  rivers,  the  Tigris  and  the  Eu- 
phrates, move  sullenly  on,  ebbing  their  life  out  to 
the  sea.  Turn  back  these  tides  into  the  veins  of 
irrigation  and  the  land  will  be  replenished,  Eden 
shall  be  again,  and  even  the  valley  of  the  Nile  shall 
be  despised  to  it. 

Exulting  in  the  fair  weather  and  following 
breeze,  we  swept  over  the  world  at  100  miles  an 
hour.  Three  thousand  feet  below,  the  two  great 
rivers  conflux  and  unite  in  the  Shatt-el-Arab,  with 
the  miserable  village  of  Kurnah  at  the  junction — a 
village  built  of  mud,  and  its  humanity  of  the  same 
color  as  the  turbid  streams  that  bear  the  soil  of  Asia 
Minor  away  to  the  Persian  Gulf. 

Clusters  of  date  palms  and  a  scant  belt  of  vegeta- 
tion fringe  the  bank,  but  beyond  a  half  mile  or  so 
there  is  nothing  but  the  dun-colored  wilderness,  the 
miraged  sky-line,  and  the  blue  canopy  where  the 
sun  rules  king. 

All  this  once  was  the  Garden  of  Eden.  To-day 
it  is  not  a  delectable  site:  but  who  may  speak  of 
the  morrow?  The  waters  of  the  Shatt-el-Arab, 
heavily  impregnated  with  mud,  resemble  the  out- 
flow from  a  mud  geyser,  swirling  and  boiling;  they 
move  oozily  forward  as  their  caprice  inclines,  the 
silt  is  precipitated,  shallows  form,  mud-banks  come 


OVER  MESOPOT  TO  KARACHI  67 

into  being,  grow  into  islets,  and  disappear  with  the 
next  flood. 

The  flight  from  Bagdad  to  Basra  took  just  under 
three  hours.  The  crazy  river  barge,  probing  its 
way  through  shallows,  rips,  and  mud,  generally 
takes  a  fortnight!  Basra  we  discovered  to  be  a 
hive  of  activity.  It  was  the  main  shipping  port 
during  the  Mesopotamian  campaign,  and  a  large 
military  base  and  aerodrome  were  still  in  evidence. 
The  aerodrome  stretches  to  the  horizon,  and  with 
the  British  camp  extends  for  miles  along  the  east- 
ern bank. 

We  crossed  over  to  the  town  in  one  of  the  char- 
acteristic river  boats  called  mahailas — a  Viking 
vessel  strangely  and  crudely  carved  at  prow  and 
stern,  and  with  sails  as  multi-patched  as  the  gar- 
ments of  the  crew.  The  town  is  an  unlovely  place 
of  strange  and  vari-odorous  perfumes ;  so  after  dis- 
patching mails  we  hastened  back  to  the  Vimy. 

As  there  was  a  Royal  Air  Force  depot  here,  I 
decided  to  delay  a  day  and  allow  Bennett  and 
Shiers  to  overhaul  and  adjust  the  engines. 

There  was  always  plenty  of  work  to  be  done  at 
the  end  of  each  day's  flying.  Both  of  the  engines 
had  to  be  overhauled  and  cleaned,  all  parts  of  the 
machine  examined  and  petrol  and  oil  tanks  refilled 
for  the  next  journey.  Usually  this  took  us  three  or 
four  hours  every  day.  We  adopted  a  set  program 
which  we  always  carried  out  religiously.  As  soon 


68  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

as  the  machine  landed  Bennett  and  Shiers  would 
don  their  overalls  and  set  to  work  on  the  engines; 
the  sparking  plugs  would  be  taken  out  and  cleaned, 
magnetos  examined  and  all  parts  of  the  engine 
inspected  and  cleaned.  On  this  work  to  a  large 
extent  depended  our  success  or  failure. 

Keith  and  I  would  climb  out  of  our  seats  and  talk 
to  the  people  who  had  come  out  to  meet  us.  Pres- 
ently Keith  would  make  enquiries  about  our  petrol 
and  oil  supplies  and  get  them  brought  up  to  the 
Vimy.  I  would  then  go  off  to  the  nearest  post 
office  and  send  our  cables  and  get  back  to  the  Vimy 
as  soon  as  I  could.  In  addition,  we  had  to  run  the 
gauntlet  of  functions  and  ceremonies,  and  it  was 
difficult  to  make  folk  understand  that  work  had  to 
be  done.  We  deeply  appreciated  every  one's  gen- 
erous kindness,  but* I  fear  that  on  some  occasions 
people  must  have  thought  us  very  discourteous. 

By  the  time  I  returned  to  the  machine  Keith 
would  have  the  petrol  ready  to  put  into  the  tanks 
and  we  would  start  to  work.  This  was  very  tiring 
and  monotonous.  I  would  open  the  four-gallon 
cans  and  lift  them  up  to  my  brother,  a  distance  of 
about  six  feet,  and  he  would  empty  the  cans  into  the 
tanks  through  a  large  funnel  with  a  chamois 
leather  strainer.  Usually  we  lifted  and  filtered 
about  half  a  ton  of  petrol  into  the  machine  and 
sometimes  as  much  as  a  ton  if  we  had  just  completed 
a  long  flight.  I  have  always  regarded  this  work 


OVER  MESOPOT  TO  KARACHI  69 

as  the  hardest  part  of  the  whole  flight.  We  would 
land  more  or  less  tired  after  several  hours  in  the  air 
and  then  start  on  really  hard  work  again.  The 
temptation  was  always  to  let  some  one  else  do  it  and 
go  off  ourselves  and  rest,  but  other  people  might  not 
have  filtered  the  petrol  properly,  or  done  something 
wrong.  We  decided  before  we  started  that  we 
would  do  all  the  work  on  the  machine  ourselves  and 
as  far  as  possible  we  carried  this  out. 

By  the  time  the  tanks  were  full  Bennett  and 
Shiers  would  have  the  engines  finished;  we  would 
then  fill  up  the  oil  tanks  with  "Castrol,"  put  the 
covers  over  the  cockpit,  and  peg  the  machine  down 
for  the  night. 

Putting  in  the  "Castrol"  was  always  a  messy  job 
and  we  would  usually  finish  our  day's  work  very 
tired  and  very  oily. 

Fortunately  we  had  foreseen  all  this  and  talked 
about  it  before  we  started ;  each  man  knew  exactly 
what  he  had  to  do,  and  did  it,  and  I  think  that  any 
one  who  has  studied  human  nature  will  agree  that, 
under  these  conditions,  it  is  a  remarkable  fact  that 
never  once  was  there  a  misunderstanding  or  a  cross 
word  spoken  amongst  our  four  selves. 

On  many  occasions  it  was  9  or  10  P.M.  before 
we  left  the  machine  for  the  night;  we  would  then 
go  off  to  either  a  hotel  or  some  kind  friend's  house, 
bathe,  dine,  and  in  due  course — to  bed.  Each  day 
we  arose  at  4.30  A.M.  and  we  never  once  had  more 


70  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

than  five  hours'  sleep  a  night,  usually  it  was  about 
four,  and  then  on  through  another  similar  day. 
Add  to  this  the  thrill,  excitement,  and  strain  of  the 
whole  race  against  time  and  one  realizes  that  it  is 
fortunate  that  we  had  gone  into  training  and  got 
ourselves  very  fit  before  leaving  England. 

On  the  morning  of  November  23rd  we  made  a 
daylight  start  from  Basra  for  Bundar  Abbas,  630 
miles  southeast.  Soon  after  starting,  the  sun  came 
up  from  the  distant  hills;  the  world  threw  off  its 
somber  gray,  and  in  dawn's  fair  raiment  became 
beautiful.  The  delicate  shades  of  pink  that  flushed 
the  horizon  mounted  higher  and  higher  until  the 
zenith  grew  gay;  and  so  another  day  of  the  flight 
had  begun. 

The  sunlight  sparkled  on  our  varnished  wings, 
and  the  polished  propellers  became  halos  of  shim- 
mering light.  Our  engines  sang  away  merrily. 
The  Vimy  ceased  to  be  a  machine  and  pulsed  with 
life,  as  if  feeling  the  glory  of  the  morning;  my 
brother  scanned  the  landscape  below,  plotting  off 
the  course  on  the  chart  and  checking  our  position 
from  time  to  time  by  villages  and  salient  features, 
remarking  how  wonderfully  accurate  the  world  was 
created ! 

Bennett  and  Shiers  had  stowed  themselves  away 
in  the  after  cockpit  and  were  reclining  inside  the 
fuselage  with  the  spare  parts,  endeavoring  to  secure 
well-earned  rest  from  their  strenuous  efforts  of  the 


OVER  MESOPOT  TO  KARACHI  71 

past  few  days.  As  the  spare  parts  crammed  all 
available  space,  theirs  was  painful  comfort  indeed. 
The  dimensions  of  our  front  cockpit  were  of  those 
adequate  proportions  generally  attributed  to 
wedges.  The  weather  continued  fine,  but  for 
the  most  part  the  flight  was  uninteresting  and 
monotonous. 

We  passed  over  Bushire  and  several  coastal  vil- 
lages, but  the  only  really  impressive  sight  was  the 
ruggedness  of  the  coastal  belt  and  the  hinterland 
ridges.  Some  of  the  country  presents  a  remark- 
able sight,  and  appears  as  if  a  mighty  harrow  had 
torn  down  the  mountain  sides  into  abysmal  furrows. 
Fantastic-shaped  ridges  and  razorbacks  rise  pre- 
cipitously from  deep  valleys,  barren  of  vegetation 
and  desolate  of  life.  Occasionally  we  passed  over 
small  flat  plains  dotted  with  abrupt  hills  and  flat 
tabletops.  The  whole  earth  appeared  as  though 
some  terrific  convulsion  had  swept  it  and  left  in  its 
wake  this  fantastic  chaos  of  scarred  mountains  and 
gouged  valleys. 

In  striking  contrast,  the  shores  of  this  wild  scene 
are  washed  by  the  stagnant  waters  of  the  Persian 
Gulf.  The  coloration  of  this  phenomenal  pan- 
orama was  equally  bewildering.  The  dead  expanse 
of  the  Persian  Gulf,  mingled  with  the  mud  of  the 
rivers,  was  an  exquisite  shade  of  green,  patched  here 
and  there  with  darker  areas,  where  the  wind  had 
caught  it  up  into  ripples. 


72  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

Mountainward,  the  first  impression  was  that  all 
had  been  molded  in  yellow  clay.  A  closer  survey 
showed  streakings  and  strata  of  infinite  shades,  of 
which  the  rust  color  of  ironstone  appeared  domi- 
nant. At  intervals  the  dry  beds  of  waterways  cut 
well-marked  defiles  from  the  high  mountains  to  the 
sea.  They  stood  out  like  roadways  winding 
through  the  maze  and  seeming  as  if  blasted  out  by 
the  hand  of  man. 

Throughout  this  terrible  country  I  scarcely  ob- 
served a  possible  landing  ground,  and  had  our 
engines  failed  us  it  would  have  meant  either  crash- 
ing or  else  an  immersion  in  the  Persian  Gulf.  So 
it  was  with  no  small  relief  that  I  brought  the  Vimy 
to  a  safe  landing  at  Bundar  Abbas,  where  a  hearty 
welcome  was  extended  to  us  by  the  British  Consul, 
the  Persian  Governor,  and  a  great  concourse  of 
interested  natives. 

Although  dog-tired,  I  could  not  sleep  much  that 
night.  The  coming  day's  trip,  I  hoped,  would  en- 
able us  to  reach  Karachi  in  a  non-stop  flight  of  730 
miles.  The  distance  did  not  perturb  me  in  the  least, 
but  the  treacherous  country  and  the  isolation  from 
civilization  in  case  of  a  forced  landing,  and  another 
long  stretch  of  detestable  mountain-scored  country, 
was  in  itself  enough  to  give  one  a  nightmare. 

The  British  Consul  had  prepared  an  ostentatious- 
looking  document  which  we  were  to  carry.  It  com- 


The    Persian    letter,    which    commanded    the    natives    to    treat    us 
kindly  if  we  were  forced  to  land  amongst  them. 


OVER  MESOPOT  TO  KARACHI  73 

manded  the  murderous  tribes  which  infested  the 
country  to  treat  us  kindly,  in  case  we  were  com- 
pelled to  land  among  them! 

Fortune  favored  us  once  more  with  a  following 
breeze  and  excellent  weather.  The  country  was  a 
repetition  of  that  passed  over  the  previous  day,  and, 
with  the  morning  sunlight  striking  aslant,  heavy 
shadows  gave  the  scene  the  semblance  of  a  mighty 
rasp. 

The  engines  were  perfectly  synchronized,  and 
roared  away  harmoniously;  but  it  is  imperative  for 
the  pilot  to  watch  every  part  of  his  machine, 
especially  the  engines.  As  I  sat  there  hour  after 
hour,  I  found  myself  automatically  performing  the 
same  cycle  of  observation  over  and  over  again. 

My  supreme  difficulty  was  to  keep  my  sleep- 
heavy  eyelids  from  closing  and  my  head  from  nod- 
ding. First  of  all  I  would  look  at  my  starboard 
engine  and  see  that  the  oil-pressure  gauge  and  revo- 
lution counter  were  registering  correctly;  then 
listen  to  hear  if  the  engine  was  firing  evenly.  Next, 
glance  over  the  engine  and  oil-pipe  connections  and 
check  off  the  thermometer  which  indicated  the  water 
temperature  in  the  radiators.  The  altimeter,  air- 
speed indicator,  and  petrol-flow  indicator  in  turn 
claimed  attention. 

I  would  then  look  up  to  the  port  engine  and  go 
over  the  instruments  and  engine  as  before;  then 


74  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

over  the  side  to  scan  the  landscape,  and  ever  keep 
an  alert  eye  for  a  suitable  spot  in  case  of  a  forced 
landing. 

By  the  time  I  had  completed  this  performance 
it  would  be  time  to  start  all  over  again.  When 
flying  over  interesting  country  the  monotony  of 
this  ceaseless  routine  is  relieved,  but  when  flying 
over  country  such  as  the  present  stage  the  only 
mental  stimulus  that  buoyed  us  up  was  the  antici- 
pation of  rosier  times  ahead.  Often  our  thoughts 
were  of  Poulet,  who  was  somewhere  ahead,  and  we 
wondered  if  ever  we  would  catch  up  with  him. 

Frequently  we  passed  over  small  villages,  and 
our  advent  instilled  terror  into  the  inhabitants  and 
their  animals. 

For  the  last  100  miles  we  left  the  coast  and  flew 
on  a  compass  bearing  direct  for  Karachi  and  so  we 
entered  the  aerial  gateway  to  India  after  a  non- 
stop flight  of  eight  and  a  half  hours. 


CHAPTER  VII 
KARACHI  TO  RANGOON 

THE  usual  procedure  of  overhauling  the 
engines  and  machine  and  refilling  our  tanks 
with  petrol  had  to  be  carried  out  before  we 
could  seek  rest,  but  the  first  news  that  greeted  us 
on  landing  at  Karachi  was  gratifying.  Poulet  was 
at  Delhi,  only  a  day's  flight  in  the  lead!  This  was 
a  great  surprise,  for  we  fully  expected  that  he 
would  be  well  on  his  way  to  Singapore.  From 
now  onward  added  zest  would  be  given  to  the  flight, 
for  I  intended  to  pursue  the  chase  in  keen  earnest. 
Already  I  considered  the  race  as  good  as  won,  for 
the  Vimy  was  superior  both  in  speed  and  range. 

We  had  hoped  for  a  good  rest  at  Karachi,  but  the 
local  Royal  Air  Force  officers  had  arranged  a  din- 
ner, and  it  was  not  before  "the  very  witching  hour" 
that  we  turned  to  bed.  Three  hours  and  a  half 
later  we  were  called  to  continue  the  flight.  This 
was  to  be  one  of  the  longest  non-stops  we  had  un- 
dertaken. Nine  hours'  flying  should  land  us  in 
Delhi,  720  miles  away. 

After  circling  above  the  aerodrome  we  turned 
east,  heading  straight  into  the  golden  sun  that  was 

75 


76  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

just  rising  above  the  horizon.  A  low  ground  haze 
that  changed  into  a  golden  mist  as  the  sun  mounted 
higher  hid  the  earth  from  view.  Passing  over 
Hyderabad,  the  vapors  rolled  away  and  we  had  a 
grand  view  of  the  River  Indus.  Once  more  we 
entered  the  monotony  of  the  desert.  For  the  next 
three  hours  we  flew  steadily  onward,  pursuing  the 
railroad  track  across  the  dreary  Sind  Desert. 

It  was  a  joy  to  reach  A j mere,  a  delightful  little 
city,  beautifully  situated  in  a  basin  of  green  hills. 
The  country  beyond  is  for  the  most  part  flat — a 
vast  verdant  carpet  irrigated  from  the  great  rivers. 
Practically  from  the  time  we  had  reached  the  Afri- 
can coast,  when  on  our  way  to  Cairo,  the  flight 
had  been  across  deserts  or  desolate  lands.  Now 
the  new  prospect  that  opened  ahead  invited  and 
attracted. 

During  the  afternoon  flying  conditions  became 
very  boisterous,  and  the  turbulent  atmosphere 
tossed  the  Vimy  about  like  a  small  vessel  in  a  heavy 
sea.  This  I  also  accepted  as  a  welcome  diversion, 
for  the  flights  of  the  past  few  days  had  cramped  me 
in  one  position,  and  now  I  was  kept  actively  on  the 
move  keeping  the  machine  straight  and  fighting  the 
air-pockets  and  bumps  into  which  we  plunged  and 
fell. 

We  first  noticed  Delhi  from  fifty  miles  distance 
— a  white  streak  in  a  haziness  of  green  plain. 


KARACHI    TO    RANGOON  77 

Quickly  details  became  apparent,  and  soon  the 
streak  had  germinated  into  a  considerable  town. 

I  circled  above  Delhi  to  allow  the  people  to  see 
our  machine,  which  had  established  a  record  by 
arriving  thirteen  days  after  leaving  London — a 
distance  of  5,790  miles.  We  climbed  crampily  out 
of  the  machine  and  were  welcomed  by  General 
McEwan,  the  Royal  Air  Force  chief  in  India,  and 
many  other  old  friends. 

I  regretted  that  I  was  quite  unable  to  reply  to 
their  kindly  expressions,  as  I  did  not  hear  them. 
The  roar  of  the  exhausts  for  nine  consecutive 
hours'  flying  had  effected  my  ears  so  that  I  was 
quite  deaf. 

After  several  hours  my  hearing  returned,  and  it 
was  to  learn  that  Poulet  had  left  the  same  morning 
for  Allahabad.  Great  excitement  prevailed,  for 
one  aeroplane  had  departed  and  another  had  ar- 
rived on  the  same  day,  both  engaged  in  a  race  half- 
way around  the  world !  After  attending  to  the  ma- 
chine we  dined  at  the  R.  A.  F.  mess,  thoroughly 
tired  but  extremely  happy.  Half  the  journey  was 
completed  and  Poulet  was  within  range. 

We  had  left  Basra  at  6  A.M.  on  November  23rd 
and  arrived  at  Delhi  fifty-six  hours  later,  covering 
a  distance  of  2,100  miles.  Out  of  the  fifty-six 
hours  we  had  spent  twenty -five  hours  ten  minutes 
actually  in  the  air,  and  in  the  balance  we  had  over- 


78  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

hauled  the  engines  and  machine  twice,  and  had  by 
our  own  efforts  lifted  and  filtered  two  and  three- 
quarter  tons  of  petrol  into  the  machine. 

I  had  intended  pushing  on  to  Allahabad  next 
day,  but  on  arrival  at  the  aerodrome  we  were  feeling 
the  effects  of  the  past  strenuous  days  so  severely 
that  I  decided  a  rest  was  imperative.  We  took  it — - 
in  the  form  of  the  proverbial  change  of  work — and, 
putting  in  six  good  hours  on  the  machine,  made 
everything  ready  for  an  early  morrow  start. 
Toward  evening  my  brother  and  I  drove  into  the 
city,  sight-seeing. 

As  I  had  been  to  Delhi  during  my  flight  to  Cal- 
cutta with  General  Borton,  I  played  the  guide,  and 
an  enjoyable  ramble  through  this  future  capital 
diverted  our  thoughts  from  the  Vimy  for  the  mo- 
ment and  enabled  us  to  relax. 

Further  diversion,  with  less  relaxation,  was  pro- 
vided by  the  native  driver  of  a  car  we  hired.  In  the 
language  of  the  realm  in  which  we  had  been  living, 
he  navigated  full  out  and  nearly  crashed  us  on  sev- 
eral occasions,  in  his  desire  to  show  what  a  pilot  he 
was.  I  declare  that  I  "had  the  wind  up"  far  more 
often  on  this  bit  of  journey  than  during  the  whole 
flight.  However,  the  casualties  were  few  and  the 
fatalities  nil,  and  we  paid  him  off  at  the  R.  A.  F. 
quarters. 

At  4.30  next  morning  I  tumbled  stiffly  out  of  bed 
on  the  insistence  of  a  Yankee  alarm-clock.  Oh, 


KARACHI    TO   RANGOON  79 

for  another  day  off!  But  by  the  time  the  others 
had  uncoiled  and  emerged  into  the  early  Indian 
dawn,  I  felt  again  the  keenness  of  the  chase.  A 
friendly  R.  A.  F.  pilot  came  up  in  a  Bristol  Fighter 
and  flew  with  us  for  a  few  miles  along  the  course 
of  the  Jumna. 

Half  an  hour  later  the  oil-gauge  surprised  us  by 
setting  back  to  zero,  and  we  made  an  unexpected 
landing  at  Muttra,  to  find  that  it  was  happily  only 
a  minor  trouble — the  slipping  of  the  indicator  on  its 
spindle.  And  so  into  the  air  once  more,  and  on  to 
Agra — Agra  the  city  of  the  Taj  Mahal. 

Of  all  the  remembered  scenes,  wonderful  and 
beautiful,  that  of  the  Taj  Mahal  remains  the  most 
vivid  and  the  most  exquisite.  There  it  lay  below 
us,  dazzling  in  the  strong  sunlight — a  vision  in 
marble.  Seen  from  the  ground,  one's  emotions  are 
stirred  by  the  extraordinary  delicacy  of  its  work- 
manship. Viewed  from  3,000  feet  above,  the 
greater  part  of  its  infinite  detail  is  lost,  but  one  sees 
it  as  a  whole.  It  lies  like  a  perfectly  executed  min- 
iature, or  a  matchless  white  jewel  reclining  in  a  set- 
ting of  Nature's  emeralds. 

We  hovered  lazily  around,  exposed  our  photo- 
graphic plates,  and  swung  off  on  our  course.  In  the 
vastness  of  space  through  which  we  were  speeding, 
the  magnificent  monument  became  a  toy  ...  a 
mote  ...  a  memory.  New  scenes,  villages,  and 
towns  rose  from  the  unreachable  brink  ahead,  grew 


80  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

into  being,  passed  beneath,  then  out  over  the  brim 
of  the  world  behind  us. 

We  were  crossing  the  vast  plains  of  Central  In- 
dia, a  great  flat  tessellation  of  cultivated  patches 
that  gave  an  impression  of  the  earth  being  covered 
with  green,  brown,  and  golden  tiles.  These  multi- 
tinted  patches  were  framed  with  brimming  channels 
carrying  the  irrigation  waters  from  the  great  river. 

Allahabad  was  reached  after  four  and  a  half 
hours,  and  we  eagerly  but  vainly  searched  the  aero- 
drome for  a  glimpse  of  Poulet.  There  were  several 
hangars  on  the  aerodrome,  however,  and  we  thought 
that  his  machine  might  be  under  cover,  but  on  land- 
ing we  were  informed  that  he  had  left  that  same 
morning  for  Calcutta. 

It  was  too  late  to  continue  the  chase  that  after- 
noon, but  next  morning  saw  us  early  on  the  wing. 

Once  more  pursuing  the  course  of  the  Jumna  as 
far  as  Benares,  we  headed  southeast  and  followed 
the  railroad  to  Calcutta.  Forty  miles  north  of  Cal- 
cutta we  came  above  the  River  Hooghly. 

Here  and  there  factories  and  jute  mills  came  into 
view,  with  villages  clustering  around  them.  The 
villages  grew  dense  and  became  the  outskirts  of  a 
great  and  expansive  city — a  mighty  congestion  of 
buildings,  white,  glaring  in  the  sun;  green  patches 
and  gardens,  thoroughfares  teeming  with  people, 
a  vast  fleet  of  shipping,  of  docks  and  activities — 
and  Calcutta  slipped  away  beneath  us. 


KARACHI    TO   RANGOON  81 

Thousands  of  people  had  collected  on  the  race- 
course, at  the  far  side  of  the  city,  to  witness  our 
arrival,  and  when  we  landed  it  was  with  great  diffi- 
culty that  the  police  kept  back  the  multitude  of 
natives  that  surged  around  the  machine.  A  barrier 
was  at  last  placed  around  the  Vimy,  and  soon  we 
became  the  center  of  a  compact  mass  of  peering 
faces,  all  struggling  to  get  closer  and  obtain  a  better 
view.  The  elusive  Poulet,  we  learned,  had  moved 
off  the  same  morning  for  Akyab. 

That  night,  after  the  usual  overhaul  of  engines 
and  filling  up  with  petrol,  we  stayed  with  friends 
and  slept  well.  We  had  crossed  India  and  were 
now  more  than  half-way  to  Australia. 

Our  departure  next  morning  from  Calcutta  was 
marked  by  an  incident  that  to  the  layman  may 
sound  insignificant,  but  it  might  easily  have 
spelled  disaster  to  us.  Thousands  of  natives  and  a 
great  many  distinguished  white  people  came  down 
to  see  the  start.  The  race-course  is  really  too  small 
for  a  machine  as  large  as  our  Vimy  to  maneuver 
with  safety,  and  I  was  a  trifle  nervous  about  the 
take-off ;  but  the  surface  was  good,  our  engines  in 
fine  trim,  and  she  rose  like  a  bird. 

Then  came  our  narrow  escape.  A  large  number 
of  kite  hawks  were  flying  around,  alarmed  by  the 
size  and  noise  of  this  new  great  bird  in  their  midst. 
When  we  had  cleared  the  ground  by  about  ten  feet 
two  hawks  flew  across  us  at  an  angle;  they  seemed 


82  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

to  become  confused  and  turned  straight  into  us, 
one  striking  the  wing  and  the  other  flying  straight 
into  the  port  propeller.  There  was  a  crash  as  if  a 
stone  had  hit  the  blade,  #nd  then  a  scatter  of 
feathers. 

It  may  not  sound  very  dreadful — except  for  the 
hawk — but  as  a  matter  of  fact  it  was  a  breathless, 
not  to  say  a  terrifying  moment,  for  we  fully  ex- 
pected to  hear  the  crash  of  broken  propeller  blades. 

We  were  at  the  time  flying  straight  for  the  high 
trees,  and,  had  the  propeller  broken,  nothing  could 
have  saved  us  from  a  terrible  crash.  However, 
more  hawks  were  circling  about,  and  in  endeavor- 
ing to  avoid  them  I  almost  crashed  the  machine  on 
the  tree-tops.  By  a  very  narrow  margin  indeed  we 
cleared  them,  and  I  was  deeply  relieved  when  we 
had  climbed  to  1,000  feet  and  were  clear  of  the 
pestilent  birds.  I  marveled  that  our  propeller 
stood  the  impact,  for  a  very  trifling  knock  will 
cause  the  disruption  of  a  propeller  when  running 
"full  out,"  and  so  in  an  extremely  high  state  of 
tension.  (I  have  known  so  tiny  an  object  as  a 
cigarette  end  thrown  carelessly  into  a  propeller  to 
cause  the  whirling  blades  to  fly  to  pieces!) 

On  looking  over  the  machine  I  noticed  one  of 
the  hawk's  wings  had  become  pinned  in  the  rigging, 
and  we  secured  it  after  the  day's  flight  as  a  souvenir 
of  a  hairbreadth  escape. 

Calcutta  marked  the  completion  of  the  second 


KARACHI    TO   RANGOON  83 

stage  of  our  journey,  and  from  now  onward  the 
route  would  be  much  more  difficult  and  hazardous. 
We  had  had  the  benefit  of  R.  A.  F.  aerodromes  and 
personnel  at  almost  every  landing  place,  but  hence- 
forth we  would  have  to  land  on  race-courses,  or  very 
small  aerodromes.  Also,  I  knew  that  the  only  pos- 
sible landing  places  right  on  to  Port  Darwin  were 
at  stated  places  hundreds  of  miles  apart,  and  that 
in  the  event  of  engine  trouble  our  chances  of  mak- 
ing a  safe  forced  landing  were  very  slender. 

I  had  originally  intended  flying  from  Calcutta  to 
Rangoon  race-course  in  one  flight,  but  as  the  next 
day,  November  29th,  was  a  Saturday,  and  I  was 
informed  that  a  race  meeting  would  be  held  at  Ran- 
goon on  that  day,  I  decided  to  stop  at  Akyab. 

We  were  now  passing  above  a  dreaded  span  of 
country,  the  Sundarbans,  where  engine  trouble 
would  have  meant  the  undoing  of  all  our  efforts 
and  labor.  The  mouth  of  the  Ganges  here  frays 
out  into  a  network  of  streams,  producing  a  jigsaw 
of  innumerable  islets  and  swamps.  We  breathed 
much  more  freely  after  we  had  reached  Chittagong, 
a  place  I  had  reason  to  remember  well,  through  hav- 
ing spent  four  day  there  the  previous  year,  when 
our  ship  caught  fire  and  was  blown  up. 

From  Chittagong  we  followed  the  coast-line  of 
Burma,  and  eventually  reached  Akyab.  My  brother 
peered  over  the  side  as  we  circled  above  the  aero- 
drome and  showed  symptoms  of  great  excitement, 


84  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

while  Bennett  and  Shiers  waved  joyfully  from  their 
cockpit  and  pointed  down  to  the  ground.  They 
indicated  a  small  machine  near  the  center  of  the 
field.  It  was  Poulet ! 

Poulet  was  the  first  to  greet  us  on  landing.  He 
came  forward  with  a  cheery  smile  and  outstretched 
hand — a  true  sportsman,  the  hero  of  a  gallant  and 
daring  enterprise.  I  was  deeply  interested  in  in- 
specting Poulet's  machine,  which  was  drawn  up 
alongside  the  Vimy.  In  proportion  the  contrast 
was  reminiscent  of  an  eagle  and  a  sparrow.  The 
Vimy  towered  above  the  tiny  Caudron,  which  ap- 
peared altogether  too  frail  and  quite  unsuited  for 
the  hazardous  task  thesf  two  courageous  fellows 
had  embarked  upon.  I  had  a  long  talk  with  Poulet 
and  his  mechanic,  Benoist;  they  made  fun  of  their 
adventures  and  intimated  that  theirs  was  a  novel 
and  exciting  method  of  touring  the  globe. 

We  agreed  to  fly  on  together  the  next  day  to 
Rangoon,  but  when  morning  arrived,  as  we  still  had 
some  work  to  complete  on  the  machine,  Poulet  set 
off,  and  by  the  time  we  were  ready  he  had  an  hour's 
lead.  No  aeroplane  had  ever  landed  at  Rangoon 
before,  and  naturally  I  was  very  keen  to  win  the 
honor  for  the  Vimy.  For  the  first  100  miles  I  fol- 
lowed the  coast -line  southward  and  did  not  observe 
a  single  landing  place  in  case  of  necessity.  The 
coast,  for  the  most  part,  fringes  out  into  vast  man- 
grove swamps,  while  further  inland  the  country  be- 


KARACHI    TO   RANGOON  85 

comes  mountainous,  with  rice-fields  checkering  the 
valleys  and  every  available  irrigable  area.  The 
hills  are  densely  wooded  and  very  rugged. 

Flying  east,  we  crossed  a  low  mountain  chain, 
and  on  the  other  side  found  the  Irrawaddy  River. 
We  followed  down  its  course  as  far  as  Prome. 
From  here  the  railroad  guided  us  on  to  Rangoon. 
I  had  no  difficulty  in  locating  the  landing  ground— 
the  race-course,  a  green  patch  framed  by  a  compact 
ring  of  cheering  humanity. 

We  came  to  earth  midst  tempestuous  cheering, 
and  were  welcomed  by  the  Lieutenant-Governor  of 
Burma,  Sir  Reginald  Craddock  and  Lady  Crad- 
dock.  We  were  told  that  ncTrace  meeting  had  been 
so  well  attended  as  the  present,  nor  had  the  betting 
been  so  widespread.  The  multitudes  had  massed 
to  witness  two  aeroplanes  racing  half-way  across 
the  globe.  To  them  the  race  was  more  than  novel ; 
it  was  a  great  event  in  their  lives,  for  few  indeed 
of  the  vast  assemblage  had  ever  seen  an  aeroplane. 

As  flying  conditions  from  Akyab  had  been  bois- 
terous, we  in  our  high-powered  machine  had  a  great 
advantage  over  Poulet,  and  in  spite  of  the  hour's 
handicap  at  the  outset,  we  succeeded  in  reaching 
Rangoon  an  hour  ahead  of  him.  Poulet's  arrival 
was  the  signal  for  another  outburst  of  cheering, 
and  he  was  welcomed  no  less  warmly  than  ourselves. 

The  police  experienced  great  difficulty  in  clear- 
ing the  race-course  that  evening,  as  many  of  the 


86  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

natives  had  brought  their  food  and  beds,  intent  on 
holding  a  festival  for  the  duration  of  our  stay.  I 
was  told  that  when  the  first  news  of  our  departure 
from  London  appeared  in  the  local  papers,  and  the 
fact  that  we  intended  calling  at  Rangoon  became 
known,  a  large  crowd  of  natives  straightway  as- 
sembled on  the  race-course,  expecting  to  see  us 
arrive  in  a  few  hours.  Later,  when  the  news  of  our 
reaching  Akyab  was  noised  abroad,  a  multitude 
camped  overnight  on  the  race-course,  so  as  to  make 
sure  of  witnessing  our  arrival. 

That  night  we  were  the  guests  of  Sir  Reginald 
and  Lady  Craddock,  who  did  everything  possible 
for  our  comfort  and  insisted  that  we  should  go  to 
bed  early.  It  was  the  first  time  such  a  suggestion 
had  been  made  to  us,  and,  as  we  were  very  weary, 
we  deeply  appreciated  their  kindly  consideration. 

There  is  a  strange  lizard  in  the  East  which  makes 
a  peculiar  noise,  like  "tuk-too,"  and  it  is  a  popular 
superstition  that  if  one  hears  this  sound  repeated 
seven  times,  good  luck  will  follow.  That  night, 
just  before  going  to  our  rooms,  a  lizard  "tuk-tood" 
seven  times.  The  omen  was  good  and  we  slept 
peacefully. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
IN  THE  CLOUDS  ABOVE  BURMA 

WE  had  arranged  with  Poulet  to  start  off 
together  next  morning  and  keep  company 
as  far  as  Bangkok.  The  Vlmy  was  con- 
siderably faster  than  the  Caudron,  but  by  throttling 
down  and  maneuvering,  it  would  be  possible  to  keep 
together.  The  way  to  Bangkok  lay  across  high 
ranges  and  dense  jungle,  and  the  mutual  advantage 
in  making  the  journey  together  over  this  unfre- 
quented and  practically  unknown  country,  should 
a  forced  landing  have  to  be  made  by  one  of  us,  was 
obvious. 

Traffic  fills  the  highways  before  sunrise  in  the 
East,  and  a  considerable  portion  of  it  was  moving 
toward  the  race-course.  A  great  crowd  of  inter- 
ested natives  swarmed  over  the  aerodrome,  and  the 
police  and  troops  were  already  busily  engaged 
clearing  them  off  prior  to  our  departure.  We 
started  up  the  engines,  took  leave  of  our  kind 
friends,  and  waited  for  Poulet.  Poulet  had  some 
difficulty  with  his  machine;  and  as  it  was  a  warm 
morning  and  our  engines  were  beginning  to  get  hot, 

87 


88  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

I  took  off  intending  to  circle  above  the  aerodrome 
until  Poulet  arose  on  the  wing. 

The  take-off  was  not  without  a  thrill.  As  a  mat- 
ter of  fact,  to  this  day  it  is  a  mystery  to  me  that  we 
ever  left  the  ground.  The  race-course  was  much 
too  small  for  so  large  a  machine  as  the  Vimy  and 
heavily  laden  as  it  was.  It  had  barely  attained  fly- 
ing speed  when  a  fence  loomed  up  in  front  of  us. 
The  Vimy  just  scraped  over,  but  ahead  were  trees 
and  buildings.  I  acted  instinctively.  The  under- 
carriage brushed  the  tree-top,  and  danger  was  past. 
It  was  over  in  a  breathless  moment;  but  had  the 
machine  been  but  a  single  foot  lower,  disaster  must 
have  overtaken  us.  How  slender  is  the  cord  that 
holds  success  from  failure! 

I  circled  above  the  race-course  for  twenty  min- 
utes; but,  as  Poulet 'had  not  yet  left  the  ground,  I 
concluded  that  he  must  be  experiencing  engine 
trouble,  and  so  reluctantly  we  had  to  push  off  with- 
out him. 

We  flew  due  east  to  Moulmein,  immortalized 
in  Kipling's  famous  ballad,  "On  the  Road  to 
Mandalay,"  and  as  no  aeroplane  had  ever  flown 
above  this  land  before,  Sergeant  Shiers,  in  words 
worthy  of  the  great  poet,  said  it  was  fine  to  be 
flitting  through  air  that  had  never  smelt  a  blanky 
exhaust ! 

The  maps  we  carried  of  this  country  were  very 


IN    THE    CLOUDS   ABOVE    BURMA  89 

poor  and  sadly  lacking  in  detail,  but  they  indicated 
that  a  7,000-foot  mountain  range  had  to  be  crossed 
before  reaching  Bangkok. 

After  leaving  Moulmein  we  headed  southeast 
over  country  rapidly  becoming  mountainous;  but, 
instead  of  encountering  lofty  summits,  a  mighty 
cloud  bank,  that  seemed  to  reach  to  heaven  and  bar 
the  entire  prospect  in  the  direction  of  our  course, 
extended  before  us.  The  monsoon  season  was  now 
due,  and  I  concluded  that  this  would  be  one  of  the 
initial  storms.  Somewhere  in  that  dread  barrier 
lay  the  high  peaks  over  which  we  must  cross,  and  I 
admit  that  I  was  afraid  of  the  prospect.  As  time 
wore  on,  the  storms  would  grow  in  frequency  and 
intensity,  so  I  decided  to  plunge  ahead. 

The  clouds  rested  down  to  4,000  feet,  and  we 
were  flying  just  beneath  them.  Somewhere  ahead 
lay  the  mountains  that  had  to  be  crossed,  rearing 
their  summits  another  3,000  feet  higher.  Our  maps 
indicated  a  pass  which  we  tried  to  find,  and  so  we 
started  off  along  a  deep  valley.  At  first  it  looked 
hopeful,  but  after  five  minutes'  flying  the  cliffs  nar- 
rowed in,  and,  fearing  I  might  be  trapped  in  a 
tapering  dead  end,  I  turned  the  Vimy  about. 
There  was  just  sufficient  room  in  which  to  effect  the 
maneuver. 

After  a  consultation  with  my  brother,  we  agreed 
that  our  safest  course  was  to  climb  above  the  cloud- 


90  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

mass  or  at  least  to  an  altitude  sufficiently  high  to 
clear  the  mountain  tops,  and  barge  our  way  through 
the  mist.  At  9,000  feet  we  emerged  above  the  first 
layer;  but  eastward  the  clouds  appeared  to  terrace 
up  gradually,  and  in  the  distance  there  extended 
still  another  great  wall,  towering  several  thousand 
feet  higher. 

Before  starting  off  over  this  sea  of  clouds,  my 
brother  took  observations  with  the  drift  indicator, 
and  we  found  to  our  dismay  that  we  would  have 
to  fight  into  a  twenty -mile-an-hour  head  wind.  He 
gave  me  the  compass  bearing  to  fly  on,  and  away 
we  went  once  more,  with  the  world  lost  to  view  be- 
neath us.  It  reminded  me  of  our  first  day  over 
France ;  but  the  weather  was  not  so  cold,  so  we  felt 
physically  more  comfortable.  The  map  showed 
the  range  to  be  about  fifty  miles  wide,  and  after  we 
had  flown  for  half  an  hour,  still  another  cloud  bar- 
rier appeared  directly  ahead. 

Our  machine  had  now  reached  its  "ceiling,"  so 
there  was  no  alternative  but  to  plunge  ahead  into 
the  mist.  We  were  then  flying  at  an  altitude  of 
11,000  feet,  and  were  soon  engulfed  in  a  dense 
blanket  of  mist.  As  we  had  left  England  hurriedly, 
there  had  been  no  time  to  fit  special  cloud-navigat- 
ing instruments,  and  the  only  ones  we  carried  for 
this  purpose  were  the  ordinary  compass,  air-speed 
indicator,  and  inclinometer.  Any  one  who  has 
flown  through  clouds  in  a  big  machine,  under  simi- 


IN    THE    CLOUDS*  ABOVE   BURMA  91 

lar  circumstances,  will  appreciate  my  feelings  at 
this  time. 

Down  below  us  lay  jagged  mountain  peaks 
buried  by  cloud.  Ahead,  around,  and  behind,  the 
mist  enfolded  us  in  an  impenetrable  screen,  and  if 
I  once  allowed  the  machine  to  get  beyond  control, 
a  horrible  fate  would  be  waiting  for  us  all  below. 

To  those  who  have  not  experienced  the  anxiety 
of  cloud-flying,  I  will  attempt  to  describe  briefly 
what  happens. 

The  moment  one  plunges  into  heavy  cloud  there 
is  misty  blankness;  all  objects  are  lost  to  view; 
and  as  time  wears  on,  a  helpless  feeling  grows  upon 
one  that  all  sense  of  direction  is  lost.  To  overcome 
this  predicament,  I  was  provided  with  the  afore- 
mentioned instruments,  and  settled  down  to  try  to 
watch  all  three  at  once  and  maintain  their  readings 
correctly.  In  addition  it  was  necessary  to  glance 
over  the  engines  and  the  gauges  continually. 

At  first  all  went  well ;  but,  while  turning  to  check 
over  an  engine,  I  apparently  and  unconsciously, 
with  the  natural  movement  of  my  body,  pushed  one 
foot,  which  was  on  the  rudder  bar,  slightly  forward. 
This  turned  the  machine  off  its  course,  and  when  I 
next  looked  at  my  compass  I  was  ten  degrees  off 
course.  I  then  kicked  on  the  opposite  rudder  to 
bring  the  machine  back;  but  as  the  Vimy  is  much 
more  sensitive  to  respond  than  the  comparatively 
sluggish  compass-needle,  I  found  that  I  had  put 


92  14,000    MILES    THROUGH    THE   AIR 

on  too  much  rudder.  The  result  was  that  when 
the  compass-needle  started  to  swing,  it  did  so 
through  an  angle  of  forty-five  degrees. 

In  my  attempt  to  correct  the  course  and  bring  the 
needle  back  on  to  its  correct  reading,  I  glanced  at 
the  air-speed  indicator  and  found  it  registering  over 
one  hundred  miles  an  hour — twenty-five  miles  above 
normal  flying  speed.  This  meant  that  I  must  have 
pushed  the  nose  of  the  machine  down.  The  in- 
clinometer indicated  that  the  machine  was  not  flying 
laterally  correct;  in  fact,  we  were  flying  at  an  in- 
clined angle  of  thirty  degrees. 

I  realized  that  the  machine  was  slipping  side- 
ways, and  that  if  I  did  not  get  matters  righted  at 
once,  the  machine  would  get  out  of  control  and  go 
spinning  down  to  earth. 

It  is  useless  attempting  to  describe  how  I  acted. 
A  pilot  does  things  instinctively,  and  presently  my 
instruments  told  me  that  we  were  once  more  on  our 
course  and  on  an  even  keel. 

All  this  took  but  a  few  seconds;  but  they  were 
anxious  moments,  as  a  single  mistake  or  the  losing 
of  one's  head  would  have  been  fatal.  This  hap- 
pened several  times,  and  at  the  end  of  what  seemed 
hours  I  glanced  at  my  watch  and  found  we  had 
only  been  in  the  clouds  for  twelve  minutes!  Per- 
haps my  nerves  were  a  little  ragged,  owing  to  strain 
and  lack  of  sleep  during  the  past  fortnight;  but  I 
felt  at  last  that  anything  would  be  better  than 


I 

5C 


IN    THE   CLOUDS   ABOVE    BURMA  93 

going  on  under  these  tense  and  nerve-racking 
conditions. 

It  was  now  an  hour  since  we  first  started  across 
the  clouds,  and  both  Keith  and  I  concluded  that  we 
must  surely  be  across  the  mountain  range.  So  I 
decided  to  take  the  risk  and  go  lower  and  "feel." 

Shutting  off  both  engines,  we  glided  down,  and 
I  held  up  the  machine  so  that  we  were  going  as 
slowly  as  possible — only  about  forty  miles  an  hour. 

The  sensation  was  akin  to  the  captain  navigating 
a  vessel  in  uncharted  shoaling  seas — expecting 
every  moment  to  feel  a  bump.  Lower  and  lower  we 
went — ten,  nine,  eight  thousand  feet — and  then  we 
both  anxiously  peered  over  the  sides — straining  for 
a  glimpse  of  hidden  peaks. 

As  we  approached  the  7,000-foot  level,  which  I 
knew  to  be  the  height  of  the  range,  we  huddled 
together  and  held  on  tight,  in  anticipation  of  the 
crash!  I  noticed  a  small  hole  in  the  cloud,  with 
something  dark  beneath.  It  was  past  in  a  flash,  but 
instantly  I  pulled  the  throttle  full  open  and  flew 
level  again.  At  first  I  thought  it  was  the  top  of  a 
dreadful  peak,  but  on  further  consideration  I  re- 
membered that  in  my  brief  glance  the  dark  patch 
had  looked  a  long  way  down. 

Once  more  I  shut  off  and  went  lower,  and  as  we 
had  not  hit  anything  by  the  time  we  reached  4,000 
feet,  I  concluded  that  the  range  had  been  crossed. 

A  few  minutes  more  and  we  burst  out  into  full 


94  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

view  of  a  glorious  world,  carpeted  with  trees,  1,500 
feet  below.  The  sudden  transformation  was  stun- 
ning. It  was  an  unspeakable  relief — the  end  of  an 
hour  that  was  one  of  the  veriest  nightmare  experi- 
ences I  have  ever  passed  through. 

Before  our  bewildered  gaze  there  stretched  a 
dark -green  forest,  only  limited  by  the  distant  sky- 
line. Here  and  there  the  dark  green  was  splashed 
with  patches  of  bright-colored  creeper,  and  in  spite 
of  the  fact  that  there  was  not  the  vestige  of  a  pos- 
sible landing  place,  it  was  beautiful  and  a  welcome 
relief.  Later,  the  Siamese  told  us  that  all  this 
country  was  unexplored. 

The  country  now  began  to  fall  away  gradually  to 
the  east;  the  hills  became  less  rugged  and  petered 
out  into  undulating,  yet  heavily  wooded,  jungle. 
An  hour  later  and  we  reached  the  Mekon  River  and 
the  haunts  of  man.  Small  villages  lay  scattered 
along  its  banks  and  wide  expanses  of  irrigated  lands 
verdant  with  rice  crops. 

Following  downstream,  we  landed  at  Don  Muang 
aerodrome,  twelve  miles  north  of  Bangkok,  after  a 
flight  that  will  live  long  in  my  memory.  Don 
Muang  is  the  headquarters  of  the  Siamese  Flying 
Corps.  They  have  several  hangars,  a  number  of 
machines,  and  up-to-date  workshops.  During  my 
visit  to  Siam  the  previous  year  I  had  been  to  Don 
Muang,  so  that  on  landing  I  found  myself  among 
friends.  We  were  met  by  the  British  Consul  Gen- 


IN    THE    CLOUDS   ABOVE    BURMA  95 

eral,  Mr.  T.  H.  Lyle,  with  whom  I  had  stayed  on 
my  previous  visit  and  who  now  rendered  us  valuable 
and  appreciated  assistance. 

The  Siamese  also  displayed  the  warmest  hospital- 
ity, and  the  Commandant  very  kindly  placed  his 
own  bungalow  at  our  disposal.  It  was  found  nec- 
essary to  regrind  the  valves  on  two  of  the  cylinders 
of  the  starboard  engine ;  and,  as  this  was  a  lengthy 
job,  Bennett  and  Shiers  worked  all  night  to  com- 
plete it,  so  that  we  might  keep  to  our  usual  sched- 
uled starting  time.  An  electric  lamp  was  rigged 
up  over  the  engine,  and  all  the  flying  ants  and  in- 
sects in  Siam  collected  around  it,  which  greatly 
added  to  the  discomfort  and  hindrance  of  the  work. 

My  original  plan  was  to  fly  from  Bangkok  to 
Singapore,  roughly  1,000  miles,  in  one  flight;  but 
as  I  learned  there  was  a  good  aerodrome  at  Singora, 
about  half-way,  with  500  gallons  of  petrol  depoted 
there,  and  as  I  was  anxious  to  conserve  the  machine 
as  much  as  possible,  I  decided  to  land  at  the  latter 
place. 


CHAPTER  IX 
SIAM  TO  SINGAPORE 

WE  left  Bangkok  in  good  weather,  and  were 
escorted  for  the  first  fifty  miles  by  four 
Siamese  machines.    For  the  first  hour  the 
flying  conditions  were  ideal,  with  a  good  following 
wind  helping  us;  then  ahead  again  lay  our  old 
enemies,  the  clouds.     At  this  time  we  were  flying 
along  the  coast,  so  did  not  deem  it  necessary  to 
climb  above  them.     The  clouds  became  lower  and 
heavier  and  soon  we  found  ourselves  only  1,000 
feet  above  the  sea. 

Ahead  we  saw  the  rain,  and  I  dreaded  what  was 
to  come.  While  we  were  over  the  sea,  with  the 
land  on  our  right,  there  was  comparatively  little 
chance  of  our  crashing  into  anything.  This  was 
fortunate,  for  in  a  few  moments  we  were  soaked 
through,  our  goggles  became  saturated,  and  all 
vision  for  more  than  a  few  hundred  yards  or  so  was 
obliterated.  The  rain  came  down  literally  like  a 
sheet  of  water,  and  as  we  had  to  remove  our  gog- 
gles and  maintain  a  constant  lookout  ahead,  we 
were  almost  blinded  by  the  rain  lashing  our  unpro- 
tected eyes. 

96 


SIAM    TO    SINGAPORE  97 

At  this  time  we  were  doing  ninety  miles  per  hour, 
and  as  the  torrential  rain  dashed  against  us  and 
the  machine  it  pattered  and  smote  like  hail.  Nar- 
rowing my  eyes  down  to  slits,  I  peered  out  ahead  as 
long  as  I  could  endure  it;  that  was  but  a  few  min- 
utes. I  then  tapped  Keith  to  keep  the  watch  while 
I  rested  my  eyes ;  then,  when  he  could  see  no  more, 
I  would  "carry  on"  again.  So  it  went  on  for  the 
best  part  of  three  hours.  Fortunately  this  heavy 
rain  was  not  continuous,  but  the  squalls  which  we 
went  through  at  frequent  intervals  generally  took 
ten  minutes  to  pass. 

Still  another  difficulty  presented  itself.  As  long 
as  we  were  flying  south,  the  strong  wind  helped 
us ;  but  as  we  had  to  follow  the  coast-line  in  detail, 
and  there  were  many  bays  and  headlands,  we  fre- 
quently found  ourselves  fighting  right  into  the  teeth 
of  the  gale  to  get  out  of  a  bay  or  weather  a  head- 
land. 

I  was  afraid  to  go  inland,  as  the  rain  only  ^al- 
lowed us  limited  visibility.  Once  we  almost  crashed 
on  to  a  hill,  which  suddenly  loomed  up  through  the 
rain  ahead.  I  just  had  time,  by  a  hair's  breadth,  to 
pull  the  machine  around  in  a  climbing  turn  and  go 
farther  out  to  sea.  I  have  never  experienced  worse 
flying  conditions,  and  had  it  been  at  all  possible  to 
land,  I  gladly  would  have  done  so. 

All  the  flat  stretches  along  the  coast  were  paddy- 
fields  under  water.  We  were  wet  and  miserable, 


98  14,000    MILES    THROUGH    THE    AIR 

and  the  thought  oftentimes  came  over  me  of  what 
an  ignominious  end  it  would  be  if  we  had  engine 
trouble  and  were  forced  to  land  in  a  paddy-field  of 
mud  and  water.  I  wondered  at  our  marvelous  en- 
gines— through  the  snows  of  France,  the  blaze  of 
the  tropics,  and  through  these  terrible  rains,  they 
still  roared  merrily  on. 

An  hour  before  reaching  Singora  we  passed 
through  and  outstripped  the  storm.  As  the  clouds 
were  still  low,  we  kept  our  altitude  down  to  1,000 
feet,  passing  here  and  there  scattered  villages,  scar- 
ing the  water  buffaloes,  which  would  career  off, 
flashing  across  the  paddy-fields  as  fast  as  their  bulk 
would  allow. 

At  last  we  reached  Singora,  and  a  glance  at  the 
aerodrome  showed  that  at  least  half  of  it  was 
under  water.  There  was,  however,  a  narrow  strip 
along  the  center  which  appeared  more  or  less  dry, 
but  I  would  have  to  make  a  landing  across  wind.  I 
came  down  low  to  examine  this  strip,  and  to  my 
utter  dismay  noticed  that  it  was  covered  with  small 
tree-stumps ! 

A  wide  and  anxious  circling  around  the  aero- 
drome showed  me  there  was  no  other  spot  on  which 
to  land;  so  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  attempt 
to  make  a  landing  on  this  narrow  strip  of  stump - 
studded  ground. 

As  we  touched  and  ran  along,  I  expected  every 


SIAM    TO   SINGAPORE  99 

moment  to  feel  a  jolt  and  the  under-carriage 
wrenched  off,  or  else  the  machine  thrown  on  to  her 
nose;  but  by  the  merciful  guidance  of  Providence 
we  miraculously  came  to  rest  safely. 

The  only  damage  sustained  was  to  our  tail-skid, 
which  had  caught  in  a  stump  and  been  wrenched 
off.  I  walked  back  along  our  tracks  and  found  that 
in  several  instances  our  wheels  had  missed  by  a  few 
inches  stumps  a  foot  to  eighteen  inches  high. 

The  whole  native  population  assembled  to  see 
us.  None  had  ever  seen  an  aeroplane  before,  and  at 
first  they  would  not  venture  near.  There  were 
three  Englishmen  at  Singora,  and  one  of  them  had 
imposed  upon  the  simple  native  minds  that  the  devil 
was  going  to  arrive  in  a  flying  chariot  to  take 
charge  over  all  the  convicts  there.  When,  how- 
ever, they  saw  that  four  ordinary  humans  climbed 
out  of  the  machine,  they  quickly  surged  around  us. 
I  noticed  that  they  were  staring,  arguing,  and 
pointing  at  us  in  a  peculiar  way;  but  it  was  not 
until  I  heard  of  our  friend's  joke  that  I  understood 
the  full  significance  of  their  interest  in  us. 

Several  of  them  walked  in  front  of  the  machine, 
flapping  their  arms  and  performing  birdlike  evolu- 
tions. We  concluded  that  they  were  solving  the 
mystery  of  flight  and  demonstrating  how  the  Vimy 
flapped  its  wings  to  rise  from  the  ground.  My 
brother,  unobserved,  climbed  into  the  cockpit  and, 


100  14,000    MILES    THROUGH    THE    AIR 

seizing  the  control  column,  vigorously  moved  it  to 
and  fro,  which  caused  the  ailerons  *  and  elevators  to 
flap  about. 

There  was  a  wild  scamper  in  all  directions.  We 
learned  afterward  that  the  natives  imagined  that 
we  were  flapping  our  wings  preparatory  to  starting 
off. 

My  first  inquiry  was  as  to  the  quantity  of  petrol 
available.  I  discovered  that  the  supposed  500  gal- 
lons was  only  500  liters,  depoted  there  for  Poulet. 
This  meant  we  would  be  compelled  to  remain  here 
until  I  could  get  sufficient  petrol  from  Penang  or 
Bangkok  to  take  us  on  to  Singapore.  I  accord- 
ingly sent  off  an  urgent  wire  to  the  Asiatic  Petro- 
leum Company  at  Penang,  asking  them  to  send 
me  200  gallons  of  aviation  petrol  as  speedily  as 
possible. 

I  also  wired  the  Resident  Councilor  at  Penang, 
asking  him  to  assist  in  the  event  of  there  being  diffi- 
culty in  getting  this  quantity  of  petrol  shipped  at 
such  short  notice.  I  next  requested  the  Governor 
of  Singora  to  have  part  of  the  aerodrome  cleared 
of  stumps  to  enable  us  to  take  off. 

Our  machine  was  left  standing  on  the  strip  of 
high  ground  and  we  pegged  her  down  securely  for 
the  night. 

Our  next  contract  was  to  mend  the  tail-skid.    An 

*  Hinged  portions  on  the  ends  of  the  wings  used  for  banking  when 
turning. 


/.;         101 

examination  showed  that  the  fitting  which  attaches 
it  to  the  fuselage  had  been  broken  off.  This  meant 
at  least  six  hours'  work,  provided  we  could  find  the 
necessary  materials.  One  of  our  English  friends 
took  us  to  a  local  Chinaman,  a  jack  of  all  trades 
and  the  master  of  a  promising  heap  of  scrap-iron. 
Bennett  unearthed  a  piece  of  steel  shafting  which, 
provided  a  lathe  was  available  to  turn  it  down  to 
shape  and  size,  fitted  our  purpose. 

We  then  proceeded  to  a  near-by  rice  mill  which 
was  just  whistling  off  for  the  night.  There  we 
found  a  good  lathe,  but  of  primitive  motive  power. 
Four  coolies  turned  a  large  pulley-wheel,  and  their 
power  was  transmitted  by  belt  to  the  lathe. 

Bennett  got  to  work  at  once  by  the  light  of,  a 
kerosene  lamp.  After  an  hour's  hard  work,  little 
impression  was  made  on  the  steel,  and  our  four- 
coolie-power  engine  "konked  out." 

Four  more  coolies  were  secured,  but  after  half 
an  hour  they  went  on  strike  and  demanded  more 
money.  I  gave  them  the  increase,  but  fifteen 
minutes  later  they  went  on  strike  again.  This  time 
we  called  the  foreman  from  the  rice  mill.  There 
was  a  different  kind  of  strike,  and  so  the  work 
proceeded. 

By  10  P.M.  Bennett  had  completed  the  job, 
and,  considering  the  makeshift  tools,  it  was  a  re- 
markably fine  piece  of  workmanship  and  skill. 

Rain  began  to  fall,  so  we  returned  to  the  bun- 


102  4fr£         KlEft  THRtKiak   THE   AIR 


galow  which  had  been  placed  at  our  disposal  by 
H.R.H.  Prince  Yugula. 

Just  before  midnight  we  were  awakened  by  the 
sound  of  a  torrential  downpour  —  the  storm  which 
we  had  passed  through  during  the  day  had  reached 
Singora.  The  wind  increased  to  a  gale,  and,  fear- 
ing that  the  machine  might  be  in  danger,  we  all 
turned  out  and  kept  watch.  Fortunately,  we  had 
pegged  her  nose  into  the  wind,  but  during  the 
heavy  squalls  the  Vimy  so  strained  at  her  lashings 
that  several  times  I  feared  she  would  be  swept  away 
and  crashed. 

We  stood  by  all  night,  obtaining  what  little  shel- 
ter we  could  from  the  wings,  and  at  every  squall 
rushed  out  and  held  on  to  the  planes.  Needless  to 
say,  we  were  drenched  to  the  skin,  and  when  the 
wind  eased  down  shortly  after  daybreak,  we  felt 
tired  and  miserable,  with  no  dry  clothes  to  put  on. 

Ten  inches  of  rain  had  fallen  during  the  night, 
and  the  whole  of  the  aerodrome,  excepting  the 
ridge  on  which  the  machine  was  standing,  resembled 
a  lake.  Luckily,  the  ground  was  sandy,  and  after 
the  rain  ceased  the  water  drained  off  rapidly. 
Squalls  continued  throughout  the  day,  but  Bennett 
and  Shiers,  after  rigging  a  tarpaulin  shelter,  were 
able  to  work  on  their  engines. 

After  breakfast  in  the  bungalow  we  returned  to 
the  machine  and  found  that  the  government  had 
sent  down  200  convicts  from  the  local  jail  to  clear 


•viiMll 


•«* 

** 


** 

* 


SI  AM    TO   SINGAPORE  103 

away  the  stumps;  and  so  we  set  them  to  work  to 
clear  a  strip  about  400  yards  long  and  fifty  yards 
wide  across  the  aerodrome. 

The  day's  rest  from  flying  was  a  delightful  relax- 
ation; in  fact,  an  imperative  necessity,  for  my 
brother's  and  my  own  eyes  were  almost  too  painful 
for  vision,  after  the  previous  day's  battle  with  the 
storm. 

Late  that  afternoon  our  petrol  arrived  from 
Penang,  but  it  was  raining  too  heavily  to  risk  put- 
ting it  into  the  machine.  We  were  greatly  indebted 
to  Captain  Owen  Hughes,  an  ex-Royal  Air  Force 
officer,  for  bringing  up  the  petrol  and  also  for  his 
prompt  attention  in  arranging  for  its  transport. 

After  a  much-needed  night's  rest,  we  were  down 
at  the  aerodrome  at  daylight,  and  after  putting  the 
200  gallons  of  petrol  into  the  tanks,  started  up  the 
engines.  Getting  the  machine  into  the  air  was  a 
questionable  problem,  but,  as  our  time  for  reaching 
Australia  was  fast  closing  in,  we  decided  to  make 
the  attempt. 

Three  large  patches  of  water  extended  across  the 
aerodrome  at  intervals  of  about  fifty  yards.  This 
water  was,  on  the  average,  six  inches  deep ;  but,  as 
the  aerodrome  was  sandy,  our  wheels  did  not  sink 
appreciably  into  it.  A  clear  run  of  fifty  yards  al- 
lowed the  machine  to  gather  a  fair  headway.  Then 
she  struck  the  water,  which  almost  pulled  us  up;  a 
race  across  another  fifty  yards  of  hard  ground,  and 


104  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

by  the  time  we  had  passed  through  the  second  patch 
of  water  the  machine  was  moving  very  little  faster 
than  at  the  beginning. 

The  third  patch  of  ground  was  a  little  longer,  and 
when  we  reached  the  third  pool  we  were  traveling 
at  about  thirty  miles  per  hour. 

The  sudden  impact  with  the  water  almost  threw 
the  Vimy  on  to  her  nose,  and  water  was  sucked  up 
and  whirled  in  every  direction  by  the  propellers. 
Our  flying  speed  had  to  be  gained  on  the  seventy 
yards  of  dry  ground  which  now  remained;  beyond 
that  extended  scrub  and  gorse  bushes. 

The  Vimy  bounded  forward  as  soon  as  she  left 
the  water,  and  just  managed  to  get  sufficient  lift  on 
her  wings  to  clear  a  ditch  and  scrape  over  the  shrub. 

I  had  been  informed  that  the  weather  would  be 
much  better  on  the  western  coast  of  the  peninsula, 
so  we  followed  the  railway  line  across  to  that  side. 
As  the  clouds  hung  only  a  few  hundred  feet  above 
the  railroad,  we  were  compelled  to  descend  to  a 
perilously  low  altitude,  which  was  rendered  the 
more  hazardous  by  huge  limestone  outcrops,  rising 
four  to  five  hundred  feet,  scattered  over  the 
country. 

Along  the  western  shores  we  found  the  weather 
much  improved;  the  clouds  were  higher,  and  occa- 
sional bursts  of  sunshine  threw  weird  light  and 
shadow  effects  across  the  paddy-fields  and  scattered 
villages.  We  still  maintained  a  low  altitude,  which 


SIAM   TO   SINGAPORE  105 

added  greatly  to  the  interest  of  the  flight  and  also 
gave  us  a  splendid  opportunity  of  studying  inti- 
mately this  remarkable  and  productive  country. 

Near  Kaular  Lumpar  we  entered  the  tin  mining 
country  and  observed  many  dredges  in  full  opera- 
tion. Lower  still  we  flew  across  the  rubber  planta- 
tions, cheered  by  the  planters  and  waving  back. 
Then,  passing  above  Malacca,  we  reached  Singa- 
pore in  the  afternoon,  after  one  of  the  most  inter- 
esting stages  of  the  journey. 

I  had  been  dreading  the  landing  and  take-off  at 
Singapore,  as  the  improvised  aerodrome,  the  race- 
course, was  altogether  too  small  for  our  large 
machine. 

I  glided  the  Vimy  down  at  as  low  a  speed  as  pos- 
sible, and  just  before  we  touched  the  ground  Ben- 
nett clambered  out  of  the  cockpit  and  slid  along  the 
top  of  the  fuselage  down  to  the  tail-plane.  His 
weight  dropped  the  tail  down  quickly,  with  the  re- 
sult that  the  machine  pulled  up  in  about  one  hun- 
dred yards  after  touching  the  ground. 

The  next  day  was  December  5th,  and  to  reach 
Australia  within  the  specified  thirty-day  time  limit 
meant  that  we  had  to  arrive  in  Darwin  on  the  12th, 
eight  days  from  now,  and  four  more  landings  to 
make  after  leaving  Singapore.  Thus  it  will  be 
seen  we  still  had  four  days  in  hand.  I  therefore 
decided  to  remain  the  whole  of  the  next  day  at  Sin- 
gapore and  work  on  our  machine. 


106  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

We  now  had,  roughly,  2,500  miles  to  complete, 
and  in  all  that  distance  I  knew  of  only  five  places  at 
which  a  landing  could  be  made ;  the  rest  of  the  coun- 
try was  either  mountain,  jungle,  or  swamp;  so  it 
behooved  us  to  look  well  to  our  machine,  for  a  single 
engine  trouble  and  a  forced  landing  away  from  any 
of  these  aerodromes  would  have  ended  all. 


CHAPTER  X 
SINGAPORE  TO  SURABAYA 

THE  heat  at  Singapore  was  intense  and, 
coming  from  the  cold  of  the  English  winter, 
we  felt  it  severely.  After  a  heavy  day  on 
the  machine,  we  were  asked  that  night  to  a  dance 
at  the  Tanglin  Club,  but  physical  weariness  com- 
pelled us  to  refuse. 

My  host,  in  a  very  persuasive  manner,  did  his 
utmost  to  induce  me  to  go,  assuring  me  the  dance 
would  be  over  early.  However,  when  we  arrived 
at  our  machine,  at  daylight  next  morning,  and  were 
getting  ready  to  start  off,  my  quondam  host  of  the 
night  before  and  some  of  his  party  arrived,  all  still 
wearing  evening  dress.  They  had  just  come  from 
the  early  dance ! 

As  I  have  mentioned  previously,  the  ground  was 
much  too  small  for  an  aerodrome,  and  the  rain  which 
had  fallen  overnight  made  it  very  heavy. 

My  brother  and  I  paced  over  and  examined  the 
ground  and  discussed  the  best  way  to  take  off,  but 
we  were  both  very  dubious  as  to  whether  we  could 
get  the  machine  into  the  air  or  would  pile  her  up  on 
the  adjacent  houses  in  the  attempt.  I  taxied  into 

107 


108  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

the  position,  so  as  to  give  the  maximum  amount  of 
run,  and  then  opened  the  throttle  full  out. 

We  gathered  way  slowly,  and  I  watched  the  fence 
around  the  course  come  rapidly  nearer  and  nearer, 
and  still  we  were  not  off  the  ground.  It  was  a  tense 
and  anxious  moment.  When  fifty  yards  from  the 
rails,  I  pulled  my  control-lever  back;  the  trusty 
Vlmy  rose  to  the  occasion  and  just  cleared  the  rails. 
There  were  still  houses  and  trees  to  be  negotiated, 
and  I  set  the  Vimy  climbing  at  an  alarming,  steep 
angle. 

Another  breathless  moment  passed,  and  the 
wheels  of  the  under-carriage  just  cleared  the  tree- 
tops.  It  was  a  great  triumph  for  the  Vimy.  She 
achieved  the  seemingly  impossible,  and  to  this  day 
I  regard  our  escape  from  disaster  during  this  peril- 
ous take-off  as  providential. 

After  a  wide  sweep  above  Singapore,  we  headed 
for  the  open  sea  and  Java.  Passing  down  to  the 
Sumatran  coast,  we  ran  into  characteristic  doldrum 
weather — isolated  patches  of  dark  thunderstorm 
clouds,  from  which  the  rain  teemed  down  in  heavy 
murky  columns. 

Occasional  forks  of  lightning  seared  the  clouds, 
throwing  up  into  relief  their  immense  bulk  and 
shedding  a  flickering  gleam  over  the  calm  sea, 
where  almost  stagnation  expanded.  Occasionally 
a  light  zephyr  came  out  of  the  east,  but  almost  in 


. 


'v 


SINGAPORE   TO   SURABAYA  109 

the  course  of  a  few  minutes  the  puff  had  boxed  the 
compass  and  died  away. 

The  spectacle  of  these  local  storms  was  extremely 
uncanny,  and  by  navigating  accordingly  it  was  easy 
to  avoid  them.  On  reaching  the  coast  of  Sumatra 
we  encountered  a  light  head  wind  and  flying  con- 
ditions became  very  bumpy.  One  immense  vacuum 
into  which  we  fell  made  us  hold  tight  and  wonder. 

"That's  the  Equator,"  ejaculated  my  brother, 
and,  sure  enough,  by  dead  reckoning,  we  had 
bumped  across  the  line  into  the  Southern  Hemi- 
sphere. 

Our  entrance  into  the  Southern  Hemisphere  was 
welcomed  by  improved  weather,  but  the  landscape 
below — dense  jungle  inland,  fringed  along  the  sea- 
shore by  belts  of  mangrove  swamps  and  the  blue 
tropical  sea — often  kindled  in  my  mind  thoughts  of 
utter  helplessness  in  case  of  engine  trouble. 

There  developed  in  me  a  strange  admiration — 
almost  reverence — for  the  super-mechanism  that 
hummed  away  rhythmically,  that  had  now  covered 
10,000  miles  without  an  overhaul,  and  at  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  globe  was  still  singing  a  hymn  of 
praise  to  the  makers,  as  it  had  done  when  the  bleak 
wintry  snows  had  carpeted  the  aerodrome  at 
Hounslow  and  Northern  France.  How  far  away 
this  all  seemed ! 

These  were  times,  for  musing,  as  we  sped  along 


110  14,000    MILES    THROUGH    THE    AIR 

above  this  tranquil  tropical  landscape,  home  only  a 
few  days  away — an  achievement! 

Numerous  small  islets — emeralds  in  a  setting  of 
turquoise — passed  below  us.  There  were  yearn- 
ings to  land  and  explore  their  mangrove-fringed 
bays  and  foreshores,  but  the  nearest  landing  ground 
was  our  destination,  Batavia. 

Soon  the  large  island  of  Muntok  came  below,  and 
in  the  strait  separating  the  mainland  we  passed  a 
vessel.  Subsequently  we  learned  she  was  equipped 
with  wireless  and  had  transmitted  news  of  our  ar- 
rival on  to  Batavia. 

I  had  originally  intended  to  hug  the  coast  of 
Sumatra  on  to  Java;  but  as  it  was  all  dense  man- 
grove swamp  with  no  sign  of  a  possible  landing 
place,  I  reasoned  that  we  might  just  as  well  fly  over 
the  sea.  My  brother  computed  the  compass  course, 
and  so  we  headed  direct  for  Batavia. 

The  hazy  contours  of  the  mountains  marking  the 
western  end  of  Java  soon  began  to  show  up  to  star- 
board, and  ahead  a  scene  of  rare  enchantment  be- 
gan to  resolve  itself  upon  the  bosom  of  the  tropical 
sea. 

The  sea  was  a  glorious  mirror  almost  as  rippleless 
as  the  canopy  above,  and  scattered  broadcast  lay 
the  Thousand  Isles,  each  one  beautiful,  and  all  com- 
bined to  make  one  of  the  most  beautiful  sights  I 
have  ever  looked  down  upon.  Many  of  the  islands 
are  heavily  grown  with  palms  extending  to  the  very 


SINGAPORE   TO    SURABAYA  111 

water's  edge;  others,  sparsely  cultivated,  fringed 
with  a  narrow  ribbon  of  beach ;  but  around  each  is  a 
setting  of  an  exquisite  shade  of  green,  marking  a 
sand -girt  shallow ;  then  deep  blue  and  depth. 

Myriads  of  tiny  white  fisher-sails  passed  through 
the  channels,  gleaning  their  harvest  from  the  sea. 

Reluctantly  we  turned  from  this  glimpse  of 
fairy-land,  and,  bearing  for  the  Garden  Island  of 
the  East,  soon  reached  Batavia,  the  city  of  canals 
and  beautiful  avenues. 

Following  the  railway  line,  we  landed  at  the 
Dutch  Flying  School  at  Kalidjati.  The  Dutch 
had  sent  an  escort  of  four  machines  to  welcome  us ; 
but,  although  they  passed  within  about  500  feet  of 
the  Vimy,  they  missed  us. 

The  distance  of  650  miles  from  Singapore  we  had 
covered  in  just  nine  hours.  Hearty  greeting  was 
extended  to  us  by  His  Excellency  Count  Van  Lim- 
burg  Stirum,  the  Governor-General  of  the  Nether- 
lands Indies,  and  a  large  number  of  leading  of- 
ficials. 

Kalidjati  is  one  of  the  best  aerodromes  I  have 
ever  seen.  It  is  a  huge  place  nestling  at  the  foot  of 
the  mountains  and  it  is  no  wonder  that  the  Dutch 
flying  officers  and  their  mechanics  are  a  cheery  lot 
in  such  ideal  surroundings. 

We  were  treated  with  the  greatest  hospitality  and 
kindness;  nothing  was  too  much  trouble  for  our 
friends,  and  the  Governor-General  himself  gave 


112  14,000    MILES    THROUGH    THE   AIR 

orders  that  we  were  to  be  the  guests  of  his  Govern- 
ment while  passing  through  the  Netherlands  East 
Indies. 

I  was  delighted  to  learn  that  several  aerodromes 
had  been  constructed  between  Java  and  Australia 
for  our  use  and  I  lost  no  time  in  expressing  my 
heartfelt  thanks  to  His  Excellency  for  his  kindness 
and  the  interest  which  he  had  taken  in  our  flight, 
without  which  we  never  would  have  reached  Aus- 
tralia within  the  allotted  thirty  days. 

After  a  well-enjoyed  meal,  we  set  to  work  on  the 
machine.  The  petrol  available  was  very  heavy, 
and  it  took  us  six  hours  to  filter  350  gallons  through 
the  chamois  leather  strainer  into  the  tanks.  As  the 
next  stage  to  Surabaya  was  only  a  short  lap,  we  did 
not  leave  Kalidjati  before  7.30  A.M. 

With  beautiful  weather  favoring  us,  we  sped  rap- 
idly over  fertile  tracts  of  this  amazing  island, 
charmed  by  the  unsurpassable  beauty  that  unfolded 
below.  Java  impressed  me  as  one  vast  bounteous 
garden,  amid  which  rise  the  immense,  shapely  cones 
of  volcanic  mountains. 

Perhaps  one  of  the  most  striking  sights  was  the 
"paddy"  country.  From  our  height,  the  whole  ex- 
panse of  the  land  appeared  to  be  inundated  by  irri- 
gation water — all  contained  in  minute,  cell-like 
squares,  that  gave  the  effect  of  a  mighty  grid, 
stretching  away  to  the  mountains  on  our  right. 
Even  there  the  irrigation  did  not  cease,  but  climbed 


SINGAPORE   TO    SURABAYA  113 

up  the  mountain  sides  in  a  system  of  stair-like  ter- 
races. 

Here  and  there  native  villages  nestled  beneath 
the  shelter  of  the  palm  groves  or  among  the  verdant 
green  of  sugar  plantations.  Always  in  the  back- 
ground, subdued  by  tropical  haze,  rose  the  chain  of 
peaks,  practically  all  quiescent,  and  far  away  to  the 
left  that  faint  blue  line  which  marked  the  Pacific 
horizon. 

Nearing  Surabaya,  flying  became  very  bumpy, 
and  it  was  no  small  relief  when  the  town,  like  a 
magic  carpet  of  multi-colored  fabric,  spread  be- 
neath us.  Heading  the  Vimy  down,  we  made  a  low 
circle  above  the  town,  to  the  infinite  amazement  of 
the  teeming  native  population  that  swarmed  out 
into  the  streets,  petrified,  evidently,  by  the  visita- 
tion. 

From  above,  the  surface  of  the  aerodrome  on 
which  we  were  to  land  appeared  to  be  ideal,  but  the 
whole  ground  was  somewhat  small.  I  landed  along 
the  south  side  intending  to  open  up  one  engine  and 
swing  the  machine  round  on  the  ground  if  there 
appeared  any  danger  of  over-shooting  and  running 
into  a  bank  of  earth  at  the  end.  This  maneuver, 
however,  I  discovered  to  be  unnecessary.  We 
made  a  good  landing  and  were  easing  off  to  rest 
when  the  machine  seemed  to  drag,  and  from  past 
experience  I  knew  at  once  the  Vimy  was  becoming 
bogged. 


114  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

Opening  up  the  starboard  engine,  we  began  to 
swing  slowly,  but  the  port  wheels  immediately  sank 
into  the  mud  and  we  tilted  on  to  our  fore-skid.  At 
once  I  shut  off  both  engines  and  the  Vimy  grad- 
ually eased  back  to  her  normal  position.  I  then  dis- 
covered that  our  aerodrome  was  a  stretch  of  land 
that  had  been  reclaimed  from  the  sea ;  the  top  crust 
had  set  quite  hard,  but  underneath  was  a  layer  of 
liquid  mud. 

The  natives  and  people,  who  had  been  kept  back 
by  the  Dutch  soldiers,  rushed  the  ground,  and  their 
weight  on  the  sun-dried  crust  soon  broke  it  up,  and 
mud  began  to  ooze  through.  In  a  very  short  while 
the  Vimy  subsided  to  her  axles  and  was  surrounded 
by  a  pond  of  semi-liquid  mud. 

The  proposition  literally  was  a  decidedly  sticky 
one.  It  was  midday,  broiling  hot,  and  the  tenacity  of 
the  mud  reminded  me  forcibly  of  that  clinging  tend- 
ency familiar  to  our  black-soil  plains.  Moreover, 
only  four  days  of  our  prescribed  time  remained,  in 
which  we  must  make  Port  Darwin. 

The  engineer  of  the  Harbor  Board  arrived,  and 
together  we  discussed  the  situation.  He  collected 
a  horde  of  coolies  and  a  large  quantity  of  bamboo 
matting,  and  so  we  set  to  work  to  dig  out  the  wheels. 

After  some  hard  work  we  got  the  matting  almost 
under  the  wheels,  started  up  the  engines  and  aided 
by  the  coolies  and  Dutch  soldiers,  the  Vimy  was 
hauled  from  the  bog.  I  then  stopped  the  engines, 


SINGAPORE   TO   SURABAYA  115 

tied  ropes  to  the  under-carriage,  and  the  machine 
was  pulled  on  to  a  pathway  of  mats. 

After  a  couple  of  hours  the  machine  was  safe  out 
of  the  morass,  and  the  ground  on  which  we  stood 
felt  quite  solid;  so  I  thought  we  had  landed  on  the 
only  soft  spot  on  the  aerodrome,  and  decided  to  taxi 
to  the  opposite  end  under  our  own  engine-power. 

I  was  soon  disillusioned,  for,  after  moving  but 
ten  yards,  down  went  the  wheels  again.  More  dig- 
ging, tugging,  and  pushing,  and  we,  apprehensive 
all  the  while  as  to  whether  the  coolies  would  drag 
off  the  under-carriage,  finally  had  to  lay  down  a 
pathway  of  bamboo  mats  and  have  the  machine 
hauled  by  200  coolie  power. 

We  had  landed  at  12  noon  and  after  six  hours  of 
hard  work  under  a  boiling  tropical  sun  we  had  the 
Vimy  on  a  platform  of  bamboo  mats  at  the  end  of 
the  aerodrome.  Some  of  the  matting  had  large 
nails  sticking  out  of  it  and  two  of  our  tires  were 
punctured.  Bennett  and  Shiers  as  usual  attended 
the  engines  first,  while  Keith  and  I  replenished  our 
tanks  with  petrol  and  oil.  Fortunately  we  did  not 
have  to  put  in  so  much  petrol  as  usual  and  we  then 
attacked  the  two  punctured  tires.  By  this  time  it 
was  dark,  but  we  worked  on  by  the  light  from  the 
lamps  of  a  motor  car. 

The  Vimy,  fully  loaded,  weighs  about  six  tons, 
and  just  as  we  had  got  one  wheel  jacked  up  the 
ground  beneath  sank  under  the  weight  and  the  jack 


116  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

broke.  We  borrowed  another  jack  from  our  friend 
with  the  motor  car,  but  this  also  suffered  a  similar 
fate.  We  had  had  no  food  since  early  morning,  so 
tired  and  disconsolate  we  decided  to  leave  the  ma- 
chine for  the  night  and  resume  our  efforts  in  the 
morning.  I  don't  think  I  have  ever  felt  so  tired  or 
so  miserable  in  my  life  as  I  did  then.  Here  we 
were  only  1,200  miles  from  Australia;  we  still  had 
four  of  our  thirty  days  left  in  which  to  do  it,  and  yet 
to  all  intents  and  purposes  we  were  hopelessly  stuck 
in  this  quagmire  without  a  chance  of  getting  out  of 
it.  Furthermore,  I  knew  that  this  was  the  only  flat 
stretch  of  land  within  400  miles  from  which  it  was 
possible  to  get  the  Vimy  into  the  air.  It  seemed  as 
if  victory  were  to  be  snatched  from  us  at  the  last 
moment. 

But  just  when  things  were  looking  blackest  a 
bright  idea  occurred  to  my  brother.  We  knew  that 
it  would  be  impossible  to  get  off  this  aerodrome  in 
the  usual  way,  but  why  not  construct  a  roadway  of 
mats  to  prevent  our  wheels  sinking  into  the  mud, 
then  run  along  it  and  so  get  into  the  air ! 

Straightway  we  sought  out  the  Harbor  Board 
Engineer,  but  he  said  it  would  be  impossible  to  get 
so  many  mats  together  in  so  short  a  time.  How- 
ever, after  much  persuasion  he  agreed  to  have  as 
many  mats  as  possible  at  the  aerodrome  next  morn- 
ing. This  cheering  news  considerably  revived  our 


SINGAPORE   TO   SURABAYA  117 

sinking  spirits  and  we  went  off  to  our  hotel  in  a 
much  happier  frame  of  mind. 

The  British  Consul  had  invited  us  to  a  "quiet 
little  dinner"  that  evening,  but  when  we  arrived  at 
the  restaurant,  an  hour  late,  we  found  that  all  the 
British  residents  in  Surabaya  had  gathered  there 
to  welcome  us.  It  was  a  very  happy  party  and  a 
most  enjoyable  diversion  from  our  efforts  of  the 
past  few  hours. 

Next  morning  saw  us  at  the  aerodrome  by  day- 
light, and  a  gladsome  sight  met  our  eyes.  Natives 
were  streaming  in  from  every  direction  bearing 
sheets  of  bamboo  matting — they  were  literally  car- 
rying their  houses  on  their  backs — and  already  a 
great  pile  of  it  lay  by  the  Vimy. 

At  first  a  pathway  of  mats  was  merely  laid  down, 
but  in  our  keen  anxiety  to  set  off  we  had  overlooked 
the  "slip -stream"  from  the  propellers.  The  en- 
gines were  opened  up  and  we  were  just  gathering 
speed  nicely  when  some  of  the  sheets  were  whisked 
up  and  blown  into  the  tail-plane.  This  threw  the 
machine  out  of  control  and  to  our  dismay  the  Vimy 
ran  off  the  matting  and  bogged  again.  Once  more 
we  had  to  dig  deep  down  and  place  great  planks 
under  the  wheels  and  haul  the  Vimy  back  into  the 
matting.  I  have  never  been  able  to  understand 
how  the  machine  stood  the  rough  handling  she  re- 
ceived ;  it  speaks  volumes  for  the  material  and  thor- 
oughness of  her  construction.  Of  course  the  coolies 


118  14,000    MILES    THROUGH    THE   AIR 

had  no  idea  which  parts  were  safe  to  pull  and  which 
were  not  and  to  try  and  watch  200  of  them  and  get 
anything  like  team  work  out  of  them  was  somewhat 
of  a  problem.  More  matting  arrived  on  a  motor 
lorry,  so  we  made  the  road  about  300  yards  long  and 
40  feet  wide  and  this  time  pegged  it  all  down  and 
interlaced  the  mats  so  that  they  could  not  blow  up. 
At  last  all  was  ready  and  just  24  hours  after  our 
arrival  at  Surabaya  we  started  up  the  engines,  ran 
along  the  roadway,  and  with  feelings  of  intense 
relief  felt  the  Vimy  take  off  and  get  into  the  air. 

We  circled  low  over  the  town  and  anchorage,  so 
as  to  give  the  engines  time  to  settle  down  to  normal 
running,  and  then  headed  on  a  direct  compass 
course  for  Bima. 


ftffifi 


CHAPTER  XI 
INTO  AUSTRALIA 

FROM  the  point  of  view  of  a  prospective 
forced  landing,  the  400-mile  flight  to  Bima 
was  impossible.  Not  a  single  flat  occurred 
on  which  we  might  have  landed.  Scenically,  this 
lap  was  glorious.  We  skirted  the  coast  of  Bali 
and  Lombok,  keeping  3,000  feet  above  the  sea. 
Not  a  ripple  disturbed  its  surface  and  looking  over 
the  side  from  time  to  time  I  could  see  a  lot  of  small 
splashes  in  the  water  in  the  form  of  a  circle.  For  a 
time  these  splashes  puzzled  me  and  then  I  caught  a 
glint  of  silvery  wings  and  knew  that  they  were  made 
by  flying  fish.  My  brother  also  had  seen  them  and 
we  were  both  rather  surprised  to  be  able  to  see  fly- 
ing fish  from  a  height  of  3,000  feet.  It  made  me 
think  that  perhaps  after  all  the  hawks  and  other 
birds  that  we  see  flying  about  have  not  such  wonder- 
ful eyesight  as  we  imagine,  because  it  is  undoubt- 
edly easier  to  see  an  object  from  the  air  than  on 
the  ground. 

Bima  aerodrome  in  the  island  of  Sumbawa  was 
in  excellent  condition  and  clearly  marked  with  a 
huge  white  cross  in  the  center  which  we  saw  several 

119 


120  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

miles  away.  The  natives  scampered  in  all  direc- 
tions and  would  not  venture  near  until  they  saw  us 
walking  about  the  machine. 

The  local  Sultan  and  the  Dutch  Commissioner 
met  us  and  proffered  the  hospitality  of  a  native 
bungalow  a  couple  of  miles  from  the  machine. 
Here  we  aroused  intense  interest ;  eyes  taking  little 
furtive  glimpses  at  us  peered  through  every  crack 
and  gap. 

During  the  night  we  were  awakened  to  hear  some 
fellow  prowling  about  outside.  I  waited  until  he 
was  opposite  the  doorway,  then  a  shot  from  my 
Very  light  pistol  put  him  to  a  screaming  and,  I  have 
no  doubt,  a  terror-stricken  flight. 

The  natives  had  recovered  from  their  shyness  by 
next  morning,  and  on  our  arrival  were  swarming 
around  the  machine  with  presents  of  cocoanuts  suf- 
ficient to  start  a  plantation ;  evidently  they  thought 
the  Vimy  a  very  thirsty  sort  of  bird. 

We  took  a  cargo  of.  nuts  on  board,  as  the  water 
was  unsuited  for  drinking,  and,  setting  off  in  daz- 
zling sunshine,  once  more  pursued  our  course  above 
scenes  of  tropical  enchantment  and  alluring  charm. 

After  following  the  north  coast  of  Flores  to  Reo, 
we  crossed  over  to  the  south  side  of  the  island  and 
ran  into  isolated  rainstorms.  Once  we  saw  a  small 
active  volcano  in  the  distance  and  were  tempted  to 
go  off  and  gaze  down  into  its  smoking  crater,  but 
as  the  weather  indicated  a  change  for  the  worse,  we 


INTO   AUSTRALIA  121 

could  not  afford  to  make  a  deviation.  We  flew  on 
as  far  as  Pandar,  and  then  swung  off  direct  for 
Timor. 

We  had  by  this  time  acquired  such  confidence  in 
our  engines  that  it  mattered  little  what  lay  below 
us — sea  or  land. 

A  thick  haze  soon  obscured  the  land  and  all  dis- 
tant vision,  but  we  eventually  picked  up  the  Timor 
coast  a  few  hundred  yards  from  our  calculated 
position.  Ten  miles  inland  we  came  down  on  the 
aerodrome  at  Atamboea,  our  last  landing  ground 
before  Port  I>arwin. 

The  Dutch  officials  had  thoughtfully  arranged 
our  petrol  and  oil  supply  close  at  hand,  saving  us  a 
good  deal  of  valuable  time,  which  we  were  able  to 
devote  to  a  thorough  overhaul. 

To-morrow  would  be  the  great  day  whereupon 
reposed  the  destiny  of  our  hopes,  labors,  and  ideals. 

This  was  one  of  the  aerodromes  specially  made 
by  the  Governor-General  of  the  Netherlands  Indies 
for  the  Australian  flight,  and  had  been  completed 
only  the  day  before  our  arrival.  A  guard  of  Dutch 
soldiers  kept  watch  over  the  machine  while  we  pro- 
ceeded with  their  officers  to  camp,  some  six  miles 
away. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  none  of  us  over- 
slept. We  were  too  excited  at  the  prospect  of  the 
morrow.  We  felt  sure  that  if  it  dawned  fine  and 
hot,  our  homing  was  assured ;  but  as  we  stepped  out, 


122  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

before  sunrise,  into  the  still,  sluggish  air,  we  real- 
ized that  our  hopes  of  an  early  start  were  small.  A 
heavy  haze  lay  over  the  sea  and  the  coast,  obscuring 
everything;  so  we  decided  to  await  its  clearing. 

We  were  at  the  aerodrome  before  sun-up  to  dis- 
cover that  a  great  swarm  of  natives  were  even 
earlier  risers  than  ourselves.  Most  had  come  afoot, 
but  many  had  ridden  their  ponies,  and  they  clus- 
tered on  and  around  the  fence,  behind  and  beside 
the  Vimy,  like  swarming  bees.  We  had  hauled  the 
machine  wrell  back  with  the  tail  against  the  fence  in 
order  to  take  advantage  of  every  foot  of  the  short 
run. 

Our  start-off  was  brightened  by  one  of  those  inci- 
dents that  usually  make  material  for  comic  papers. 
The  propellers  were  just  "kicking"  over,  like  two 
great  fans,  and  those  natives  sitting  on  the  fence  in 
the  line  of  the  slip-stream  were  enjoying  the  cool 
breeze  and  looking  pleased  with  themselves.  When 
I  opened  up  the  engines  and  both  propellers  swung 
into  action,  the  sudden  blast  of  air  sent  these  partic- 
ular spectators  toppling  back  into  the  crowd,  where 
ponies  and  natives  made  a  glorious  mix-up,  at  which 
we  all  laughed  heartily. 

If  an  aeroplane  is  forced  to  land  in  the  sea  it 
usually  floats  for  a  time,  then  the  forward  part  sinks 
and  only  the  tail  remains  above  water.  Remem- 
bering this,  just  before  leaving  Timor  we  tied  a 


I  a 


s-s 


INTO   AUSTRALIA  123 

parcel  of  food,  a  bottle  of  water,  the  Very  pistol  and 
some  cartridges  on  to  the  tail  so  that  we  would  have 
something  to  fall  back  upon  in  case  of  emergency. 

Soon  after  8  the  fog  began  to  thin,  and  at  8.35,  to 
be  exact,  I  opened  up  the  engines  and  just  managed 
to  scrape  out  of  the  'drome.  Scrape  is  exactly  the 
word,  for  the  branch-tops  of  the  gum-tree  rasped 
along  the  bottom  of  the  machine  as  we  rose.  It 
was  indeed  one  of  the  closest  shaves  of  the  trip. 

In  front  of  us  rose  a  chain  of  high  hills,  and, 
as  the  atmosphere  was  hot  and  we  climbed  very 
slowly,  we  made  a  detour  to  avoid  them.  Still  fly- 
ing low,  we  approached  the  coast  and  pulled  our- 
selves together  for  the  final  lap — the  jump  across 
the  Arafura  Sea  that  lay  between  us  and  Port 
Darwin. 

Keith  took  all  possible  bearings,  noted  wind  di- 
rection, and  made  numerous  calculations  of  ground 
speeds.  Then  we  set  compass  course  for  Darwin, 
and  with  a  "Here  goes!"  we  were  out  over  the  sea. 
All  our  hearts  were  beating  a  little  quicker;  even 
our  fine  old  engines  seemed  to  throb  a  trifle  faster. 

This  was  to  be  our  longest  stretch  over  open  sea 
and  I  did  not  relish  the  prospect  of  being  out  of 
sight  of  land  for  five  hours.  However,  as  the  coast- 
line of  Timor  receded  and  disappeared  behind  us, 
my  thoughts  turned  back  to  the  great  trans- 
atlantic flight  made  by  the  late  Sir  John  Alcock  in 


124  14,000    MILES    THROUGH    THE    AIR 

a  Vimy  similar  to  our  own.  What  had  we  to  fear 
with  only  a  few  hundred  miles  of  open  sea  to  cross, 
while  he  had  nearly  2,000? 

The  Australian  Government  had  arranged  that  a 
warship  should  patrol  the  sea  between  Timor  and 
Port  Darwin  in  case  we  should  need  help,  and 
anxiously  we  scanned  the  distant  horizon  for  the 
first  glimpse  of  her. 

Our  watches  registered  11.48  when  Keith  nodded 
ahead,  and  dead  on  the  line  of  flight  we  made  out  a 
faint  smoke  that  soon  resolved  itself  into  the  smoke 
plume  of  a  fighting-ship.  It  was  the  H.M.A.S. 
Sydney,  and  we  knew  now  that,  whatever  might 
befall,  we  had  a  friend  at  hand. 

We  swooped  low,  and  exactly  at  twelve  minutes 
past  noon  passed  over  the  vessel,  seeing  plainly  the 
upturned  faces  of  the  sailors  and  their  waving 
hands.  It  was  a  cheer  of  welcome  quite  different 
from  anything  that  we  had  experienced  on  the  long 
journey.  Perhaps  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that 
the  result  of  our  snapshot  was  blurred  through  the 
shaking  of  the  camera. 

We  took  the  opportunity  of  snatching  a  speed 
test,  and  found  that  we  were  averaging  seventy-five 
miles  an  hour. 

Two  hours  later  both  of  us  saw  ahead  and  to  port 
what  appeared  to  be  haze,  but  which  we  hoped  was 
land,  though  neither  dared  express  his  hopes. 
They  were  justified,  however,  ten  minutes  later,  and 


t'i 

o      *- 


en 


INTO   AUSTRALIA  125 

hailing  Bennett  and  Shiers,  we  pointed  joyfully  to 
Bathurst  Island  lighthouse. 

It  was  just  2.06  P.M.  when,  as  our  diary  prosai- 
cally notes,  we  "observed  Australia."  At  3  o'clock 
we  not  only  observed  it,  but  rested  firmly  upon  it, 
for,  having  circled  over  Darwin  and  come  low 
enough  to  observe  the  crowds  and  the  landing  place, 
we  landed  on  Terra  Australis  on  December  10th, 
27  days,  20  hours  after  taking  off  from  Hounslow. 

We  had  won  the  race  against  time  and  the 
<£lO,000  prize  with  just  52  hours  to  spare! 

Two  zealous  customs  and  health  officials  were 
anxious  to  examine  us,  but  so  were  about  2,000  just 
ordinary  citizens,  and  the  odds  of  1,000  to  1  were 
rather  long  for  those  departmental  men,  and  our 
welcome  was  not  delayed. 

The  hardships  and  perils  of  the  past  month  were 
forgotten  in  the  excitement  of  the  present.  We 
shook  hands  with  one  another,  our  hearts  swelling 
with  those  emotions  invoked  by  achievement  and  the 
glamour  of  the  moment.  It  was,  and  will  be,  per- 
haps, the  supreme  hour  of  our  lives. 

Almost  reverently  we  looked  over  the  Vimy,  and 
unspoken  admiration  crept  over  us  as  we  paid  a 
silent  tribute  to  those  in  far-off  England  for  their 
sterling  and  honest  craftsmanship.  The  successful 
issue  of  the  venture  in  a  great  degree  was  due  to 
them,  and  surely  they  merited  and  deserved  a  large 
proportion  of  the  praise. 


126  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

Through  every  possible  climatic  rigor  the  Vimy 
had  passed,  and  practically  without  any  attention. 
Not  once,  from  the  time  we  took  our  departure 
from  Hounslow,  had  she  ever  been  under  shelter. 
And  now,  as  I  looked  over  her,  aglow  with  pride, 
the  Vimy  loomed  up  as  the  zenith  of  man's  inventive 
and  constructional  genius.  I  could  find  neither 
fault  nor  flaw  in  the  construction,  and,  given  a  few 
days'  overhaul  on  the  engines,  the  Vimy  would  have 
been  quite  capable  of  turning  round  and  flying  back 
to  England. 

These  reflections  were  of  brief  duration,  for  the 
crowd,  having  satisfied  its  curiosity  over  the  ma- 
chine, directed  it  to  us.  The  Administrator  of  the 
Northern  Territory  and  the  Mayor  of  Darwin  were 
given  barely  time  to  make  an  official  welcome  when 
the  assemblage,  brimming  with  enthusiasm,  lifted 
us  shoulder  high  and  conveyed  us  to  the  jail. 

This  sinister  objective  for  the  moment  gave  us 
qualms,  for  we  fully  expected  a  charge  of  exceeding 
the  speed  limit  to  be  preferred  against  us.  That 
drastic  apprehension  resolved  itself  into  being 
dumped  on  a  tree-stump,  historic  or  otherwise,  in 
the  garden,  while  raucous  howls  of  "Speech! 
Speech!"  came  from  the  hospitable  multitude. 

After  the  exchange  of  much  "hot  air"  on  both 
sides,  we  returned  to  the  Vimy,  made  all  snug,  and 
lashed  her  down  for  the  night. 

During  our  stay  at  Darwin  we  were  the  guests  of 


1 


INTO   AUSTRALIA  127 

Mr.  Staniford  Smith,  at  Government  House. 
And  now  we  were  to  be  bewildered  by  an  amazing 
array  of  cables  and  telegrams.  They  arrived  in 
great  fifteen-minute  shoals  from  every  corner  of  the 
globe. 

What  had  gone  wrong?  Surely  every  one  had 
gone  mad — or  had  we?  Why  all  this  fuss  and  ex- 
citement? Since  leaving  London  we  had  not  read 
a  newspaper,  and,  beyond  the  local  natural  atten- 
tion evinced  i.t  our  numerous  landing  grounds,  we 
knew  nothing  of  the  interest  the  rest  of  the  world 
was  taking  in  the  flight. 

Great  indeed  was  our  astonishment  when,  on 
turning  up  back  files  of  newspapers,  we  read  of  our 
exploits,  recorded  with  a  degree  of  detail  that  must 
have  taxed  the  imaginative  resources  of  editorial 
staffs  to  gray  hairs. 

The  rush,  strain,  and  anxiety  were  over;  hence- 
forward the  conclusion  of  our  flight  across  Aus- 
tralia could  be  undertaken  leisurely,  but  we  still 
had  a  distance  of  3,000  miles  to  fly  before  reaching 
our  home  in  Adelaide. 

Our  flying  time  from  London -to  Darwin  was  135 
hours.  So  in  the  ordinary  course  of  events  we 
should  have  given  our  engines  a  top  overhaul — 
lifted  the  cylinders  and  ground  in  the  valves,  etc. 
This  would  have  taken  a  week,  and  as  the  rainy 
season  had  just  started  and  our  aerodrome  was 
low-lying,  I  was  told  that  if  we  did  not  get  off 


128  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

at  once  we  would  probably  have  to  remain  three 
months. 

The  port  propeller  was  showing  signs  of  splitting 
but  I  thought  it  would  last  until  we  reached  Sydney 
where  we  could  get  another.  All  things  consid- 
ered I  thought  it  best  to  get  on  as  quickly  as  pos- 
sible, because  had  we  remained  at  Port  Darwin 
for  any  length  of  time  it  is  highly  probable  that 
the  Vimy,  standing  out  in  the  open,  would  have 
been  severely  damaged  in  one  of  the  tropical  storms 
that  occur  here  frequently  at  this  time  of  year. 

The  Minister  of  Defense  at  Melbourne  had  ar- 
ranged petrol  and  oil  supplies  for  us  at  various 
points  and  the  first  town  we  would  reach  after  leav- 
ing Port  Darwin  was  Cloncurry,  in  Northwestern 
Queensland — a  distance  of  about  1,000  miles.  The 
maps  of  all  that  northern  part  of  Australia  are  bad 
and  show  very  little  detail,  but  we  arranged  to  get 
some  information  about  various  landmarks  from 
some  stockmen  who  had  recently  returned  from 
"droving"  a  mob  of  cattle  from  Darwin  to  Clon- 
curry. 

The  day  before  we  left  Port  Darwin,  Captain 
Wrigley  and  Lieutenant  Murphy  of  the  Australian 
Flying  Corps  arrived  from  Melbourne  in  an  old 
B  E  2  E  machine.  They  had  come  up  to  meet  us 
and  had  achieved  a  remarkable  performance  in 
having  flown  so  far  in  a  machine  four  years  old. 
Our  first  mechanical  troubles  of  the  whole  journey 


INTO   AUSTRALIA  129 

began  soon  after  leaving  Darwin.  We  were  fol- 
lowing the  telegraph  line  which  runs  overland  from 
Darwin  to  Adelaide ;  it  was  terribly  hot  and  below 
us  stretched  a  limitless  expanse  of  undulating  scrub- 
country.  After  about  four  hours  of  very  uncom- 
fortable flying,  valve  trouble  developed  in  the  star- 
board engine  and  I  decided  to  land  on  a  dried-up 
swamp  a  few  miles  ahead.  It  turned  out  to  be  very 
rough  ground,  but  we  got  down  safely  and  Shiers 
soon  had  the  engine  right  again.  There  was  a  good 
water  hole  at  one  side  of  the  swamp  and  as  flying 
conditions  were  so  bad  we  decided  to  lay  up  under 
the  shade  of  the  wings  for  the  rest  of  the  day  and 
go  on  early  next  morning.  We  learned  afterward 
that  the  place  where  we  had  landed  rejoices  in  the 
name  of  "Warlock  Ponds,"  and  I  am  never  likely 
to  forget  it  as  long  as  I  live.  As  soon  as  the  sun 
went  down  a  solitary  mosquito  came  buzzing 
around  our  little  camp  and  presently  selected  Shiers 
as  his  victim.  Finding  him  good,  the  mosquito, 
being  a  sportsman,  did  not  wait  until  he  had  had  his 
fill,  but  buzzed  off  back  to  his  pals  at  the  water  hole 
and  told  them  of  his  find.  In  a  few  minutes  the  air 
was  thick  with  them  and  I  have  never  known  insects 
so  venomous.  Sleep  was  impossible  and  the  only 
way  we  could  rest  was  by  wrapping  ourselves  com- 
pletely in  a  blanket,  but  it  was  too  hot  to  do  this  for 
long.  We  tried  grass  fires,  a  petrol  fire,  and  every- 
thing else  that  we  could  think  of,  but  all  to  no  avail, 


130  14,000    MILES    THROUGH    THE   AIR 

and  soon  our  faces,  arms,  and  legs  were  just  a  mass 
of  lumps.  About  midnight  I  suddenly  remem- 
bered that  I  had  a  bottle  of  very  good  Irish  whisky 
in  the  machine  that  had  been  given  me  in  London. 
It  had  not  been  opened  and  so  at  last  I  thought  I 
had  found  something  to  keep  these  pests  away. 
The  whisky  was  divided  into  four  portions  and  at 
once  I  proceeded  to  splash  mine  all  over  myself 
while  the  others  watched  the  result.  It  was  not 
long  in  coming — I  am  sure  those  mosquitos  must 
have  thought  it  was  Christmas;  they  fairly 
swarmed  around  me  and  then  kept  coming  back  for 
another  drink!  To  add  to  my  discomfort  I  was 
forced  to  watch  Keith  and  Bennett  and  Shiers 
drink  their  portions  while  I  vainly  tried  to  lick  up 
the  drips  that  were  running  down  my  face. 

It  was  after  daylight  before  we  managed  to  sleep 
and  so  our  start  was  delayed  until  10  A.M.  If  any- 
thing it  was  hotter  than  the  preceding  day  and  con- 
sequently the  air  was  full  of  pockets  and  bumps  and 
at  times  I  had  to  work  hard  to  keep  the  machine 
under  control.  We  left  the  telegraph  line  at  New- 
castle Waters  and  turned  off  southeast.  There  was 
nothing  on  our  map  to  guide  us,  but  the  stockmen 
in  Port  Darwin  told  us  that  if  we  flew  southeast 
from  Newcastle  Waters  for  about  100  miles  we 
would  see  two  large  patches  of  scrub  which  almost 
met  each  other  in  the  form  of  a  V.  Then  if  we 
went  down  low,  we  would  see  the  tracks  of  a  mob 


INTO   AUSTRALIA  131 

of  cattle  that  they  had  driven  over  there  a  few 
months  previously.  A  few  miles  further  on  we 
would  come  onto  a  rough  bush  road  that  led  on 
toward  Cloncurry.  It  all  came  out  just  as  they 
had  said;  we  picked  out  the  two  patches  of  scrub 
and  then  came  down  and  saw  the  tracks  of  the  cat- 
tle. Surely  this  was  rather  a  novel  form  of  navi- 
gation. 

About  an  hour  later  I  was  startled  by  a  loud 
crack  from  the  port  propeller  and  was  horrified  to 
see  that  one  blade  had  split  from  the  tip  to  the  boss. 
There  was  a  tent  pitched  by  the  side  of  a  track 
about  a  mile  ahead,  so  I  shut  off  both  engines  and 
came  down  and  landed. 

We  calculated  that  we  were  about  twenty  miles 
away  from  Anthony's  Lagoon  where  there  was  a 
small  police  station  and  a  petrol  depot.  At  first 
it  looked  hopeless  to  think  of  repairing  the  pro- 
peller and  going  on,  and  so  here  we  were  marooned 
in  a  dry  and  desolate  part  of  Australia,  150  miles 
from  a  telegraph  and  450  miles  from  the  nearest 
railway.  It  was  not  a  pleasing  prospect  by  any 
means.  Just  after  we  landed  we  were  greatly 
astonished  to  see  two  motor  cars  coming  toward 
us.  It  seemed  too  good  to  be  true,  as  we  thought 
that  we  would  certainly  have  to  walk  the  twenty-odd 
miles  to  Anthony's  Lagoon  before  we  could  hope 
for  any  assistance.  The  cars  contained  Mr.  Syd- 
ney Peacock  and  his  son,  and  Sergeant  Stretton  of 


132  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

the  Mounted  Police.  Mr.  Peacock  had  been  sink- 
ing a  sub-artesian  bore  just  where  we  landed  and  he 
was  now  going  to  remove  his  camp  and  travel  back 
into  Queensland  until  after  the  summer.  Had  we 
arrived  an  hour  later  he  would  have  struck  his  camp 
and  gone  and  we  would  have  been  faced  with  a  long, 
hot,  and  diy  walk. 

We  had  little  food  and  no  water  in  the  Vimy,  but 
Mr.  Peacock  kindly  insisted  on  leaving  us  all  his 
before  he  departed,  and  he  arranged  to  have  sup- 
plies sent  out  to  us  from  Anthony's  Lagoon.  He 
also  left  us  a  sheet  of  galvanized  iron  with  which 
Bennett  said  he  could  mend  the  broken  propeller. 
We  were  camped  there  for  three  and  a  half  days, 
during  which  time  Sergeant  Bennett  carried  out  a 
wonderful,  and  what  I  consider,  a  unique  piece 
of  skillful  workmanship.  When  the  propeller 
blade  had  split  in  the  air  several  splinters  of  wood 
had  flown  off,  but  Bennett,  nothing  daunted,  shaped 
new  bits  out  of  a  piece  of  packing  case  to  fill  the 
gaps.  He  next  glued  the  split  portions  together, 
then  cut  the  sheet  of  galvanized  iron  into  strips  and 
bound  them  round  the  blade.  The  strips  of  iron 
were  fastened  onto  the  blade  with  screws  which  we 
had  taken  out  of  the  floor  boards  of  the  machine. 
When  this  was  done  the  whole  blade  was  covered 
with  fabric  and  painted. 

So  that  there  would  be  little  or  no  vibration  the 


INTO   AUSTRALIA  133 

opposite  blade  of  the  propeller  had  to  be  treated  in 
exactly  the  same  manner. 

The  conditions  under  which  we  worked  were 
very  trying  and  during  the  middle  of  the  day  it 
was  impossible  to  do  anything  except  lie  in  the 
shade  of  the  wings  and  pant.  The  shade  tempera- 
ture underneath  the  wings  was  as  high  as  125° 
and  the  heat  even  melted  our  "Triplex"  goggles 
and  wind  screens. 

Water  was  very  scarce  and  none  of  us  washed  for 
the  whole  three  and  a  half  days.  The  bore  which 
Mr.  Peacock  had  put  down  contained  semi-brackish 
water  and  we  had  to  haul  it  up  150  feet  in  a  small 
bucket.  It  was  very  dirty  too  as  the  bore  had  not 
been  cleaned  out  since  it  was  made  and  the  water 
made  all  of  us  ill  when  we  drank  it.  During  the 
day  we  wore  no  clothes  except  our  overalls  and 
boots,  but  we  were  really  quite  happy  by  ourselves 
with  no  one  to  worry  us  and  ask  the  same  old  innu- 
merable questions  about  the  speed  of  the  machine, 
its  weight,  where  we  sat  and  so  forth ;  it  was  the  first 
real  rest  that  we  had  had.  Keith  amused  me  very 
much  one  evening.  We  were  having  our  usual 
meal  of  tinned  meat  and  biscuits  when  he  suddenly 
remarked:  "If  we  had  some  ham,  we  would  have 
some  ham  and  eggs,  if  we  had  some  eggs."  I  be- 
lieve it  is  a  very  old  joke,  but  I  had  never  heard  it 
before  and  it  sounded  so  very  funny  away  out  there, 


134  14,000    MILES   THROUGH    THE   AIR 

and  I  remember  laughing  about  it  for  a  long  while 
afterward. 

During  the  second  night  we  were  camped  here  a 
heavy  thunderstorm  passed  over  and  we  managed 
to  collect  quite  a  lot  of  water  as  it  ran  off  the  planes. 

It  was  a  great  relief  when  the  propeller  was 
finally  fitted  on  the  engine  again  and  so  well  had 
Bennett  done  his  work  that  there  was  practically  no 
vibration  when  the  engine  was  running. 

From  Anthony's  Lagoon  much  of  the  flight  over 
featureless  country  would  have  been  drear  and 
monotonous,  but  it  was  Australia  and  that  was  com- 
pensation enough.  Moreover,  we  had  the  occa- 
sional diversion  of  passing  over  small  outback 
towns,  where  many  of  the  inhabitants  rushed  into 
the  streets  and  stood  looking  up,  waving  and  cheer- 
ing, and  wherever  we  landed  there  was  always  a 
warm  welcome  awaiting  us. 

At  Charleville  in  Central  Queensland  both  en- 
gines were  given  a  much-needed  and  thorough 
overhaul  and  a  new  propeller  was  made  by  the 
Queensland  Government  at  their  Railway  Work- 
shop at  Ipswich.  It  was  here  also  that  we  were 
joined  by  my  old  friend,  Captain  Frank  Hurley, 
of  Antarctic  fame;  he  completed  the  rest  of  the 
flight  with  us  in  the  Vimy,  taking  films  and  photo- 
graphs, and  his  cheery  optimism  and  unfailing  good 
humor  made  us  all  wish  that  he  had  been  with  us 
the  whole  way  from  England. 


INTO   AUSTRALIA  135 

The  sublimest  spectacle  of  the  entire  flight  from 
Hounslow  to  our  journey's  end  was  to  burst  upon 
us  when  we  arrived  over  Sydney  and  its  wonderful 
harbor. 

Like  a  mighty  fern-leaf,  ramifying  and  studded 
with  islets,  this  glorious  waterway  unfolded  below. 
The  city  and  its  environs,  massed  along  the  water- 
front and  extending  into  the  hinterlands,  flanked 
by  the  Blue  Mountains,  compose  a  spectacle  of  ex- 
quisite charm  and  beauty. 

We  headed  up  the  coast  and,  turning  through  the 
entrance,  entered  the  port. 

Planing  down  to  600  feet,  we  flew  above  a  myriad 
ferry-boats  and  vessels,  from  the  whistles  of  which 
little  white  jets  of  steam  spurted  up,  screaming  a 
welcome;  then  across  the  roof-tops,  where  crowded 
waving  and  cheering  humanity,  and  over  the  streets 
below,  where  little  specks  paused  to  look  up  and 
join  in  the  greeting.  It  was  a  great  day — a  time 
that  comes  once  in  a  lifetime. 

Not  the  least  pleasant  incident  upon  our  arrival 
finally  in  Melbourne  was  the  paying  over  of  the 
£10,000  prize  by  the  Prime  Minister,  the  Right 
Hon.  W.  M.  Hughes,  on  behalf  of  the  Common- 
wealth Government.  As  all  participated  equally 
in  the  perils  and  labors  of  the  enterprise,  the  prize 
was  divided  into  four  equal  shares. 

In  Melbourne  I  formally  handed  the  Vimy  over 
to  the  Commonwealth  Government  on  behalf  of 


136  14,000    MILES    THROUGH    THE   AIR 

Messrs.  Vickers,  Ltd.,  who  generously  presented 
the  machine  to  the  Commonwealth  as  an  historic 
relic  of  the  first  aerial  flight  from  London  to  Aus- 
tralia. At  the  request  of  the  authorities,  I  flew 
the  machine  on  to  Adelaide,  my  native  city,  and 
thus  realized  to  the  full  my  ambition  and  dream  of 
flying  from  London  to  my  own  home. 

It  would  be  hard  indeed  to  comprehend  the  feel- 
ings that  surged  through  me  as  I  landed  the  Vimy 
on  the  sod  of  my  native  city — the  recognition  of 
familiar  faces;  the  greeting  of  well-known  voices; 
the  hand-clasp  of  innumerable  friends;  but,  great- 
est of  all,  the  reunion  with  my  parents  after  five 
long  years. 

Our  heartfelt  thanks  are  due  to  the  officers  and 
mechanics  of  the  Royal  Air  Force;  to  the  Dutch 
authorities  for  constructing  aerodromes  and  other 
assistance,  and  for  the  cooperation  of  numerous 
friends,  whose  willing  and  generous  help  laid  the 
paving-stones  over  which  Fortune  piloted  me. 

My  brother  Keith  shares  equally  any  worthiness 
that  the  effort  might  merit,  as  also  do  my  two  mas- 
ter mechanics,  Sergeants  Bennett  and  Shiers,  whose 
loyalty  and  devotion  to  duty  have  done  much  to 
bind  closer  the  outposts  of  the  Empire  through  the 
trails  of  the  skies. 


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